WORDSWORTH 

AND 

THE    COLERIDGES 


Jhe^>y<^ 


^    "*^^'    o 


WORDSWORTH 


AND 


THE  COLERIDGES 


WITH   OTHER  MEMORIES 
LITERARY   AND    POLITICAL 


BY 

ELLIS   YARNALL 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1899 


All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1899, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Xoriuooli  J^rtss 

J.  S.  Cushini;  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 

Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

I  OWE  the  suggestion  of  this  volume  to  my  friend, 
Professor  Albert  H.  Smyth.  I  am  indebted  to  him 
also  for  kind  and  efficient  help  in  preparing  it  for 
publication. 

Professor  Smyth's  wide  knowledge  of  English  lit- 
erature and  his  keen  desire  to  further  the  love  of  it 
in  others  make  his  influence  in  Philadelphia  akin  to 
that  of  the  late  Professor  Henry  Reed. 

The  first  of  the  following  papers  was  written  mainly 
in  1889.     I  have  made  slight  changes  in  it  since. 

The  paper,  "  A  Visit  to  Wordsworth,"  was  in  part 
published  by  Dr.  Christopher  Wordsworth  (afterward 
Bishop  of  Lincoln),  in  185 1,  in  his  life  of  the  poet; 
passages  were  omitted  by  him  because  of  their  ref- 
erence to  persons  then  living;  there  is  no  reason 
now  why  my  record  should  not  appear  as  a  whole. 

I  rejoice  to  be  able  to  say  something  in  regard 
to  Sir  John  Taylor  Coleridge,  —  better  known  as 
Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  —  the  friend  at  once  of  Dr. 
Arnold  and  of  Mr.  Keble.  Nothing  in  the  way  of 
memoir  of  this  eminent  man  has  ever  appeared  in 
this  country,  nor  has  any  adequate  life  been  written 


2G1003 


vi  PREFACE 

in  England.  Dr.  Arnold's  letters  to  him  form  a  very 
important  part  of  Stanley's  "  Life  of  Arnold."  Judge 
Coleridge's  letters  to  Arnold  unhappily  were  not  pre- 
served; a  like  fate  attended  his  letters  to  our  great 
lawyer,  Horace  Binney.  Judge  Coleridge  told  me 
he  had  preserved  all  Mr.  Binney 's  letters.  Both  Dr. 
Arnold  and  Mr.  Binney,  I  believe,  thought  it  their 
duty  to  direct  that  the  letters  they  had  received  should 
be  destroyed.  In  these  two  cases,  at  least,  the  loss 
to  literature  and  to  recent  history  has  been  serious. 

In  publishing  what  I  can  recall  of  William  Edward 
Forster,  I  cannot  but  be  impressed  by  the  thought 
that  what  was  his  supreme  desire  as  a  statesman 
seems  now  at  last  to  be  fulfilled,  —  the  essential 
union  of  England  and  America,  —  a  union  not  of  a 
treaty  or  of  diplomatic  arrangement,  but  the  declara- 
tion, as  by  a  common  instinct,  of  two  great  peoples 
that  their  interests  are  one,  and  that  in  their  stand- 
ing together  lies  the  chief  hope  for  the  peace  and 
advancement  of  the  world.  Englishmen  of  far-reach- 
ing view  have  at  different  times  expressed  a  wish 
for  this  union.  As  early  as  1808  Bishop  Watson, 
—  Bishop  of  Llandaff,  —  a  man  of  much  weight  of 
character  and  of  high  intelligence,  declared  it  to  be 
his  strong  desire  that  England  should  enter  "  as  speed- 
ily as  possible  into  an  alliance,  cordial,  sincere,  offen- 
sive and  defensive,  with  America."  I  may  note  also 
that  in  1804  Bishop  Watson  expressed  it  as  his  belief 


PREFACE  vil 


that  America  was  destined  to  become  the  greatest 
naval  power  on  the  globe. 

I  have  referred  in  my  final  paper  to  Mr.  Bright's 
deep  interest  in  America,  his  strong  belief  in  our 
future,  and  his  earnest  wish  for  a  cordial  union  of 
all  English-speaking  men. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  the  publishers  of  Lippm- 
cotfs  Magazine  for  permission  to  reprint  the  articles 
"  Walks  and  Visits  in  Wordsworth's  Country "  and 
"  Charles  Kingsley :  a  Reminiscence." 

ELLIS  YARNALL. 

May  Place,  Haverford,  Pa., 
March,  1899. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS   DURING  SEVENTY   YEARS    ...  I 

A   VISIT   TO   WORDSWORTH,    1 849 3 1 

WALKS   AND   VISITS   IN   WORDSWORTH'S   COUNTRY  .  .  .  -53 

SARA    COLERIDGE    AND    HER    BROTHERS,    HARTLEY    AND    DERWENT 

COLERIDGE IO3 

SIR  JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE   AND   LORD   COLERIDGE  (lORD   CHIEF 

JUSTICE   OF   ENGLAND) 1 43 

CHARLES   KINGSLEY  :    A   REMINISCENCE 181 

OXFORD,   AND   THE   AUTHOR   OF   "THE   CHRISTUN   YEAR"      .            .  I97 

THE   OXFORD   COMMEMORATION,    1860 223 

THE   RIGHT   HONOURABLE   WILLLVM   EDWARD   FORSTER  .            .            .  239 

ENGLAND   AND    THE    HOUSE    OF    COMMONS    IN    THE    CLOSING    DAYS 

OF  THE  AMERICAN   CIVIL  WAR 279 


Gigantic  daughter  of  the  West, 

We  drink  to  thee  across  the  flood; 
We  know  thee  most,  we  love  thee  best, 

For  art  thou  not  of  British  blood? 
Should  war's  mad  blast  again  be  blown. 

Permit  not  thou  the  tyrant  powers 
To  fight  thy  mother  here  alone, 

But  let  thy  broadsides  roar  with  ours. 
Hands  all  round  ! 
God  the  tyrants'  cause  confound  ! 
To  our  great  kinsmen  of  the  West,  my  friends. 
And  the  great  name  of  England  round  and  round. 

Tennyson  (1852). 


OCCASIONAL   RECOLLECTIONS 
DURING   SEVENTY  YEARS 


OCCASIONAL   RECOLLECTIONS 
DURING   SEVENTY   YEARS 

It  occurs  to  me  to  send  my  thoughts  back  over  a 
portion  of  the  great  space  of  life  that  I  have  travelled, 
and  to  bring  up  in  succession  matters  that  were  of 
interest  to  me  in  a  period,  let  us  say,  of  sixty,  or  even 
seventy,  years. 

The  coming  of  Lafayette  to  America  in  1824,  what 
an  event  that  was  for  young  and  old  !  For  days  and 
weeks  there  had  been  excitement  and  preparation 
here  in  Philadelphia.  A  triumphal  arch  in  front 
of  the  State  House,  medals  and  badges  for  sale  in 
the  streets,  rows  of  lamps  and  candles  in  all  windows 
for  the  appointed  illumination,  —  all  this  was  enough 
to  arouse  a  child's  wonder.  At  last,  the  eagerly  ex- 
pected moment  came,  and  there,  in  an  open  carriage, 
drawn  by  six  cream-coloured  horses,  sat  the  hero  —  the 
Nation's  guest.  I  gazed  on  him  with  a  boy's  amaze- 
ment and  delight.  In  pomp  like  this  he  went  over  all 
the  land  —  a  great  and  rejoicing  nation  offering  him 
everywhere  of  their  best.  He  had  come  to  us  in  the 
fervour  of  his  youth,  and  now,  after  fifty  years,  he  was 
here  to  look  on  the  land  and  the  people  whose  inde- 
pendence he  had  helped  to  win.  There  were  three 
millions  at  his  first  coming ;  he  found  them  ten  mill- 

3 


4  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

ions,  and  there  seemed  no  limit  to  the  promise  of 
their  future.  It  is  good  to  think  of  that  visit,  and  of 
the  gratitude  expressed  in  every  conceivable  way  by 
an  entire  people. 

There  is  a  curious  historical  parallel  in  Lafayette's 
two  returns  from  America :  five  years  after  his  first 
return,  on  the  closing  of  the  War  of  the  Revolution, 
he  took  a  leading  part  in  the  great  French  Revolu- 
tion ;  so,  five  years  after  his  return  from  his  visit  to 
us  of  1824-5,  he  was  the  chief  actor  in  the  Revolution 
of  1830,  which  drove  Charles  X.  from  the  throne. 

A  vivid  recollection  which  comes  back  to  me  of 
1827  is  the  battle  of  Navarino.  I  wonder  how  many 
people  know  of  that  great  victory.  Even  as  a  boy  I 
shared  in  the  transports  of  joy  with  which  the  news  of 
it  was  received.  The  combined  fleets  of  Eneland» 
France,  and  Russia  attacked  the  Turkish  fleet  in  the 
Bay  of  Navarino  and  destroyed  it  utterly.  It  was 
clear  at  once,  to  the  whole  world,  that  this  meant  the 
independence  of  Greece.  For  five  years  the  hearts  of 
men  in  England  and  America  had  been  wrung  by  tid- 
ings of  the  bloody  deeds  of  the  Turks.  At  last  the 
great  powers  had  intervened.  But  there  was  disquie- 
tude in  England  at  the  weakening  of  the  power  of 
Turkey,  lessening  her  ability  to  make  head  against 
Russia.  A  single  word  in  the  King's  speech  in  the 
opening  of  Parliament,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  being 
then  Prime  Minister,  was  in  men's  mouths  for  years : 
the  great  battle  was  spoken  of  as  an  untoward  occur- 
rence.    On  the  other  hand,  Lord  John  Russell  spoke 


*» 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTION'S  5 

of  it  as  a  glorious  victory,  and  as  honest  a  victory  as 
had  been  won  since  the  beginning  of  the  world.  The 
Turks  die  hard,  and  though  they  have  lost  wide  lands 
and  millions  of  subjects  in  the  past  fifty  years,  they  are 
still  a  great  power. 

The  years  from  1829  to  1833  were  years  of  vast  and 
sweeping  change  both  in  England  and  France.  I  re- 
member, as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the  news  of  Catholic 
Emancipation,  and  the  passing  of  the  first  Reform 
Bill,  the  tidings  of  the  beginning  of  the  Ministry  of 
Earl  Grey  with  Brougham  made  Lord  Chancellor  and 
raised  to  the  peerage. 

But  in  America  there  were  great  political  struggles 
to  occupy  the  mind.  With  1829  John  Quincy  Adams's 
four  years  of  rule  came  to  an  end,  and  our  political 
system  took  a  great  plunge  downwards  under  the 
Presidency  of  Andrew  Jackson.  Midway  in  that  eight 
years'  rule  there  was  a  progress  of  General  Jackson 
through  the  Northern  cities :  he  rode  on  horseback 
—  probably  the  last  President  who  so  traversed  our 
streets.  An  imposing  figure  truly !  with  his  shock  of 
grey  hair,  and  his  resolute  look,  and  his  natural  grace 
of  bearing,  and  his  easy  command  of  his  horse,  as  with 
hat  in  hand  he  acknowledged  the  cheers  of  the  people 
and  bowed  to  the  ladies  who  filled  the  windows  on 
either  side.  The  popularity  of  Jackson  was  retained 
to  the  last ;  in  his  daring  and  his  strength  of  will  he 
well  represented  the  South.  As  his  administration 
closed  in  1837,  the  predominance  of  the  South  seemed 
assured  to  all  time.     But  an  agitation  had  begun  at 


6  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

the  North  which  was  to  keep  the  subject  of  slavery 
constantly  before  the  people.  The  speeches  and  writ- 
ings of  the  antislavery  leaders  infuriated  the  South, 
and  made  them  the  more  resolute  to  secure  for  their 
bad  system  increased  protection  from  the  National 
Government.  Few  in  number  though  the  Abolition- 
ists were,  their  leaders  were  of  such  ability  and  ear- 
nestness that  they  powerfully  affected  opinion.  It 
chanced  that  I  had  abundant  opportunity  of  listening 
to  the  talk  of  these  leaders  from  the  beginning  of  the 
movement.  Under  the  roof  of  my  Aunt  Lucretia 
Mott,  I  met  Benjamin  Lundy,  who  might  be  called 
the  American  Clarkson ;  Harriet  Martineau,  who  ap- 
peared here  just  as  the  agitation  began ;  George 
Thompson  the  English  Abolitionist;  Gerrit  Smith, 
the  great  landed  proprietor  of  New  York,  who,  from 
being  a  munificent  supporter  of  the  scheme  of  Afri- 
can colonization,  had  passed  over  to  the  antislavery 
camp  ;  Wendell  Phillips ;  the  poet  Whittier ;  and,  last 
and  greatest,  William  Lloyd  Garrison.  Lucretia  Mott, 
the  chief  female  figure  of  the  movement,  was  a  pow- 
erful help  to  it  by  the  charm  of  her  personal  presence, 
her  refinement,  the  deep  earnestness  of  her  manner, 
and  what  one  might  call  her  intellectual  spirituality. 

In  Mrs.  Mott's  house  I  met  Dr.  Channing,  whose 
writings  against  slavery  were  of  earlier  date  than 
that  of  the  beginning  of  the  movement.  I  recall  his 
grave,  thoughtful  face  and  the  old-time  dignity  of  his 
bearing.  My  first  meeting  with  Emerson  was  at  the 
same  house.     Frederika  Bremer  I  met  there,  too,  and 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  7 

I  recall  her  speaking  of  the  devotion  to  Emerson 
which  she  had  found  to  be  the  feeling  of  the  Boston 
circle.  A  lady,  herself  of  high  accomplishments,  had 
said :  "  If  he  but  mentions  my  name,  I  feel  ennobled." 
Emerson  was  not  of  the  movement,  though  he  was  in 
sympathy  with  it.  He  was  so  gracious  in  manner, 
and  so  gentle  in  his  ways,  and  so  kind  of  heart,  that  I 
could  perfectly  understand  how  strong  was  his  hold 
upon  all  who  were  about  him. 

I  was  a  looker-on,  as  it  were,  while  the  antislavery 
agitation  was  under  full  headway,  for  I  never  was  con- 
vinced that  the  mode  of  attack  of  which  Garrison  was 
the  chief  champion  was  wise.  The  years  went  on, 
and  the  condition  of  the  slaves  grew  worse.  The 
Fugitive  Slave  Law  of  1850,  which  denied  the  right 
of  trial  by  jury  to  a  man  seized  in  a  Northern  State 
and  claimed  as  a  slave,  greatly  strengthened  antislav- 
ery feeling.  There  was  case  after  case  under  this 
law  in  Philadelphia,  in  Boston,  and  elsewhere,  which 
almost  led  to  riot. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write  I  had  come  to  know 
Charles  Sumner,  who  was  for  some  months  in  Phila- 
delphia for  medical  treatment,  after  the  assault  made 
upon  him  in  the  Senate  chamber  by  Brooks,  of  South 
Carolina.  Other  years  went  by,  and  in  the  spring  of 
i860  I  was  arranging  to  go  to  Europe,  and  having 
occasion  to  write  to  Mr.  Sumner,  I  asked  him  his 
opinion  upon  the  political  situation,  or,  what  he 
thought  was  at  hand  :  it  was  the  year  for  a  Presiden- 
tial  nomination.     He    replied   that  he  was  confident 


8  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

that  whoever  was  nominated  by  the  RepubHcans  at 
Chicago  would  be  elected ;  that  he  felt  equally  sure 
the  Gulf  or  Cotton  States  would  not  acquiesce  in  the 
result,  but  would  raise  the  black  flag,  and  attempt  to 
set  up  a  separate  government  —  that  he,  for  one, 
would  not  lift  a  finger  to  retain  them.  I  reminded 
him  of  this  letter  two  years  afterwards  when  we  were 
in  the  full  tide  of  war.  I  was  sitting  with  him  in  his 
own  apartment  at  Washington.  He  said  he  had 
been  of  opinion  that  we  ought  to  let  the  Slave  States 
go,  until  the  actual  breaking  out  of  war —  that  Judge 
Chase  was  of  the  same  opinion,  and  had  come  to  him 
—  "  here  in  this  room  "  —  and  asked  him  to  go  to 
New  York  and  make  a  speech  advocating  this  policy 
of  acquiescence,  or  rather,  surrender.  Suddenly,  how- 
ever, war  was  begun  by  the  South.  "  I  went  at  once 
to  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  Mr.  Sumner,  "  and  told  him  I 
was  with  him  now,  heart  and  soul ;  that  under  the  war 
power  the  right  had  come  to  him  to  emancipate  the 
slaves." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Horace  Greeley  openly 
advocated  letting  the  Slave  States  go.  "  Erring  sisters 
depart  in  peace,"  were  his  words.  I  have  always  been 
of  the  opinion  that  with  him  and  with  Judge  Chase 
there  was  a  passionate  longing  for  the  Presidency  — 
that  each  thought  his  chance  would  be  good  for  a 
nomination  as  Chief  Magistrate  of  "  the  United  States 
of  the  North." 

The  summer  of  i860  I  passed  in  England.  The 
rain  of  all  that  season  was  incessant,  and   the  wheat 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  9 

harvest  was  ruined.  There  was  one  result  of  these 
torrents  which  I,  as  an  American,  Httle  foresaw.  A 
o-reat  market  was  given  to  our  Northern  and  Western 
States  for  their  breadstuffs  during  the  year  that  fol- 
lowed, when  a  war  had  begun  which  was  to  strain  our 
resources  to  the  utmost.  But  in  that  midsummer 
season  of  i860  one's  thoughts  in  England  were  occu- 
pied with  the  details  of  Garibaldi's  brilliant  descent 
upon  Sicily:  of  the  melting  away  of  all  opposition; 
of  his  crossing  to  Italy;  of  his  entry  in  triumph  into 
Naples,  the  entire  population  hailing  him  with  trans- 
ports of  joy  as  their  delr^'erer. 

I  interrupt  my  survey,  so  to  call  it,  of  events,  to 
refer  to  Garibaldi's  coming  to  England  in  1862. 
The  wildest  excitement  was  caused  by  his  presence 
in  London.  The  Government  feared  an  outbreak 
should  he  proceed  to  Birmingham  as  was  his  plan. 
At  their  suggestion  Garibaldi's  host,  the  Duke  of 
Sutherland,  offered  the  hero  his  yacht,  which  was 
then  at  Portsmouth,  if  he  would  like  to  proceed  at 
once  to  the  Mediterranean,  to  his  island  home.  Gari- 
baldi was  beginning  to  be  wear}^  of  the  adulation  and 
turmoil,  and  so  fell  in  with  the  Duke's  suggestion,  and 
the  Government  was  relieved  of  their  anxiety.  Vari- 
ous were  the  conjectures  as  to  the  cause  of  the  sudden 
flight.  Punch  said  he  had  been  pestered  out  of  his 
life  by  applications  for  his  autograph,  and  had  given 
away  the  contents  of  two  hair  mattresses  in  reply  to 
requests  for  locks  of  his  hair.  I  add,  what  has  just 
now  a  certain  significance,  that  Archbishop   Trench 


10  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

notes  in  his  journal  of  this  date  (1862)  a  saying 
then  current  in  London.  The  Dowasrer  Duchess  of 
Sutherland  had  seemed  greatly  drawn  to  Garibaldi : 
"  Why  should  not  Garibaldi  marry  the  Duchess  ? " 
said  some  one.  The  instant  reply  was,  "  Garibaldi 
has  a  wife  already."  "  Oh,"  said  Lord  Palmerston, 
"that  doesn't  matter — Gladstone  will  explain  her 
away." 

To  return  to  my  proper  narrative.  News  came  to 
England  of  the  nomination  of  Lincoln  at  Chicago. 
Who  was  Abraham  Lincoln  ?  was  on  all  sides  the  in- 
quiry. I  could  tell  my  friends  little  about  him.  But 
it  was  plain  that  a  stormy  season  was  at  hand.  I 
returned  to  America  in  October  and  found  intense 
excitement  prevailing.  I  obtained  at  once  a  volume 
of  250  pages,  containing  a  full  report  of  speeches  of 
Lincoln  and  Douglas  during  the  contest  in  Illinois 
of  1858.  Douglas's  term  of  service  as  senator  was 
expiring,  and  if  he  failed  to  secure  its  renewal,  his 
chance  for  the  Presidential  nomination  of  i860  would 
be  gone.  He  was  a  man  of  great  ability,  but  unscru- 
pulous as  a  politician,  and  of  a  coarse  mind.  Charles 
Sumner,  who  had  had  bitter  passages  with  him  in  the 
Senate,  spoke  of  him  once  in  a  letter  to  me  in  terms 
of  strong  dislike.  His  restless  energy,  and  his  skill 
as  a  demagogue,  had  given  him  extraordinary  success. 
But  there  had  arisen  in  his  own  State  a  rival  who, 
besides  gifts  of  mind,  had  the  strength  of  high  moral 
purpose.  The  volume  of  which  I  have  spoken  was 
the  record  of  the  long  debate  between  these  two  men 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  II 

—  the  United  States  senatorship  being  the  prize  for 
which  each  was  striving.  I  read  it  with  extreme  care, 
and  saw  that,  throughout,  Mr.  Lincoln  had  clearly  the 
advantage.  In  a  letter  to  England  for  publication  in 
The  Guardiaji,  of  the  date  of  October,  i860,  I  said: 
"  Mr.  Lincoln  is  a  man  of  vigorous  understanding : 
his  utterances  are  marked  by  so  much  originality  as 
to  stamp  him  as  a  man  of  genius."  This  favourable 
judgment  as  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  expressed  before  he  had 
become  President,  was  more  and  more  my  conviction 
as  the  weeks  and  months  went  on.  December,  Janu- 
ary, and  February,  were  months  of  intense  agitation. 
All  minds  were  stirred.  I  talked  with  men  of  wisdom 
and  experience  wherever  I  had  opportunity.  Horace 
Binney,  then  eighty  years  of  age,  said  to  me,  referring 
to  a  plan  of  settlement  known  as  the  Crittenden  Com- 
promise, that  he  for  one  would  never  agree  to  it,  let 
the  consequences  of  refusal  be  what  they  would.  He 
said  he  was  old,  and  he  might  have  added,  as  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  once  said  of  himself,  his  "life 
had  been  passed  in  honour."  He  said  he  would  not 
at  the  end  of  it  take  upon  his  conscience  the  sin  of 
slavery.  The  Crittenden  Compromise  would  have 
put  this  weight  on  the  consciences  of  the  people  of 
all  the  land. 

One  State  after  another  declared  itself  out  of  the 
Union,  and  neither  the  Government  at  Washington 
nor  any  State  Government  except  Massachusetts,  was 
making  any  preparation  to  bring  back  these  "  erring 
sisters."     Mr.  Russell,  as  correspondent  of  the  London 


12  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Times,  wrote,  as  the  result  of  his  intercourse  in  New 
York  with  leading  men,  that  there  would  be  no  war. 
"  Compromise,  concession,"  was  the  burden  of  the  talk 
he  heard.  Even  men  of  high  patriotic  spirit  feared 
the  Union  was  gone.  The  late  Morton  McMichael, 
a  man  for  whom  I  felt  warm  regard,  and  in  whose 
judgment  I  had  great  confidence,  said  to  me  in  Feb- 
ruary, i860,  that  no  one  could  see  the  press  of  the 
country  (he  was  editor  of  the  leading  newspaper  of 
Philadelphia)  as  he  saw  it,  without  feeling  that  the 
Union  could  not  be  preserved.  All  we  could  do,  he 
said,  was  to  seek  to  lessen  the  difficulties  which  would 
follow  separation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  then 
Bishop  of  Pennsylvania,  Bishop  Bowman,  said  people 
might  talk  as  they  liked  about  the  success  of  the 
secession  movement,  but  no  one  could  see  the  interior 
of  Pennsylvania,  as  he  saw  it,  without  being  con- 
vinced that  the  body  of  the  people  would  never  con- 
sent to  the  dismemberment  of  the  country. 

At  the  end  of  February  came  the  progress  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  from  Springfield,  Illinois,  to  Washing- 
ton. From  city  to  city  he  went  by  a  zigzag  course, 
welcomed  everywhere  by  countless  multitudes.  His 
reception  in  Philadelphia,  though  wanting  in  show  or 
accessories  of  every  kind,  was  very  impressive.  As 
I  saw  approaching,  along  the  wide  street,  the  dense 
mass  of  men,  with  horses'  heads  and  plumes  rising 
among  them,  and  by  and  by  the  slowly  moving  con- 
course drew  near,  it  was  impossible  not  to  share  in  the 
excitement  that  all  felt  at  the  thought  that  a  man 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  1 3 

chosen  from  among  thirty  milHons  was  moving  on- 
ward to  a  work  of  awful  perplexity,  solemnity,  and 
peril.  There  was  prodigious  interest  in  the  sight 
of  one  on  whom  so  heavy  a  responsibility  had 
fallen.  Even  in  the  distance  I  thous^ht  I  discerned 
a  light  in  his  eye  showing  him  to  be  a  man  of 
mark. 

I  may  not  say  much  of  the  uprising  of  the  people 
which  followed  the  attack  upon  Fort  Sumter,  nor  of 
the  four  awful  years  of  war.  It  was  an  amazing  error 
on  the  part  of  the  South  —  their  beginning  the  war; 
the  Government  at  Washins^ton  would  have  had  srreat 
diliBculty  in  beginning  it  —  there  was  doubt  whether 
a  majority  of  the  people  would  support  them  in 
such  beginning.  It  was  the  attempt  to  victual  Fort 
Sumter  which  drew  the  fire  of  the  South,  and  made 
them  the  aggressors. 

About  a  month  before  Bull  Run  I  spent  a  few 
days  in  Washington,  and  had  the  honour  of  an  inter- 
view with  the  President.  I  was  received  by  him  in 
the  laro;e  audience  chamber  on  the  second  floor  of  the 
White  House ;  he  sat  at  a  table,  at  the  end  of  the 
room,  with  one  of  the  windows  at  his  right  looking 
down  on  the  gardens.  His  manner  was  courteous, 
his  look  open  and  resolute,  and  at  the  same  time 
gentle.  His  eyes  were  deep-set  and  of  a  certain  full- 
ness and  lustre,  and  his  features  were  expressive. 
He  was  composed  and  cheerful ;  there  was  a  serenity 
about  him,  indeed,  which  seemed  surprising,  consider- 
ing  the   heavy  responsibility  which    was    upon    him. 


14  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

He  talked  quietly  of  the  contest  which  was  just 
beginning:  said  the  South  had  the  advantage  that 
the  fighting  would  be  on  their  own  ground.  I  re- 
member thinking  he  overrated  the  Union  feeling  of 
the  South.  He  spoke  a  good  deal  of  the  attitude  of 
England  toward  us,  and,  what  was  thought,  the  too 
early  recognition  of  the  South  as  belligerents.  This 
had  caused  great,  perhaps  undue,  excitement  at  the 
North.  He  said  he  had  never  been  in  England,  but 
he  thought  the  state  of  things  there  was  this :  The 
aristocracy,  who  had  hitherto  had  control  of  the  Gov- 
ernment, might  be  unfriendly  to  us,  regarding  us  as  a 
menace  to  their  system  —  "  One  of  their  lords  has  just 
said  '  the  bubble  has  burst ' "  (this,  I  think,  was  a 
remark  of  Sir  John  Burgoyne  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons)—  and  the  cotton  spinners  of  Manchester,  either 
from  cupidity,  or  from  a  natural  wish  to  obtain  cotton, 
so  as  to  give  employment  to  their  hands,  might  wish 
the  South  to  succeed ;  but  he  believed  the  body  of 
the  people  —  the  middle  and  the  lower  classes  —  still 
had  their  old  feeling  in  regard  to  slavery.  This  last 
remark  showed  the  confidence  felt  by  Mr.  Lincoln  in 
the  steadfastness  of  England  as  a  whole,  and  also  his 
conviction  that  they  knew  slavery  to  be  the  real  cause 
of  the  quarrel,  and  that  the  fate  of  the  system  was 
bound  up  in  its  issue.  The  President  was  certainly 
right  as  to  the  feeling  of  the  majority  of  the  English 
people.  I  was  told  in  Liverpool,  just  before  the  war 
closed,  by  men  whose  sympathies  had  been  strongly 
with   the   North,  that   nowhere   in    England   had   the 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTION'S  1 5 

Southern  sympathizers  dared  to  call  a  public  meeting 
in  support  of  the  Confederate  cause. 

I  was  deeply  impressed  by  this  interview.  Although 
the  struggle  which  was  to  decide  so  much  had  scarcely 
beo-un,  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  a  true  leader 
of  men.  I  knew  the  humble  life  from  which  Abraham 
Lincoln  had  come,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  me  a  man  of 
heroic  mould,  and  one  who  was  to  do  great  deeds.  I 
went  away  from  him  with  a  rejoicing  heart,  feeling  that, 
in  the  hour  of  our  deepest  need,  a  man  of  clear  mind 
and  singleness  of  purpose  —  indeed  of  the  noblest 
impulses  —  would  be  our  supreme  chief  and  leader. 

A  month  from  the  time  of  this  interview  came  the 
catastrophe  of  Bull  Run.  Well  do  I  remember  hours 
passed  in  the  oflfice  of  Morton  McMichael,  as  the  de- 
tails came  in  of  the  terrible  disaster.  I  recall  the  pale 
faces,  the  gloom,  almost  despondency,  written  on  every 
countenance.  "  It  is  not,  all  is  lost  but  honour,"  said 
Mr.  Henry  Carey,  "for  honour  has  been  lost  as  well." 
Commodore,  afterwards  Admiral,  Dupont  came  in: 
he  alone  was  serene ;  his  look  was  almost  cheerful. 
"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  this  is  war !  " 

The  country  rallied  quickly,  however,  from  this  dis- 
aster, and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  prolonging 
of  the  war,  due  to  the  defeat,  led  to  the  more  effectual 
making  an  end  of  slavery,  and  thus  to  a  lasting  peace. 
I  need  say  no  more  of  the  war  and  of  our  American 
matters. 

One  incident  of  the  year  183S  caused  a  thrill 
of   emotion   on   this   continent,  and    I    remember   as 


1 6  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

if  it  was  yesterday  my  own  feeling  —  the  arrival  at 
New  York  of  a  steamship  from  England,  the  steamer 
Sirius.  A  tremendous  event  this  truly !  as  drawing 
the  New  World  nearer  to  the  Old.  Deep  was  the  im- 
pression that  was  made.  The  going  abroad  became  a 
vision  of  delight  to  old  and  young.  I  remember  hear- 
ing Emerson  say,  some  forty  years  ago,  with  a  certain 
sarcasm:  "The  object  of  education  in  the  United 
States  seems  to  be  to  fit  persons  to  travel  in  Europe." 
There  was  admonition  in  his  question  which  followed, 
■"  Who  are  these  Americans  who  are  passing  their 
time  in  Paris  and  elsewhere  who  seem  so  little  missed 
in  their  own  country  ?  " 

My  first  voyage  to  England  was  in  1849.  I  have 
always  considered  that  we  in  America  are  Englishmen 
over  again,  and  so,  when  I  landed  in  England,  I  still 
felt  myself,  in  a  certain  sense,  at  home.  I  say  this, 
although  every  ancestor  of  mine  for  two  hundred 
years  was  born  in  America.  A  deep  interest  in  Eng- 
lish literature  and  in  English  politics  had  animated 
me  always,  true  though,  I  consider,  was  my  love  for 
my  own  country,  and  keen  my  desire  for  its  advance- 
ment. I  venture  to  quote,  as  some  justification  for  the 
feeling  which  has  always  animated  me,  the  words  of 
Mr,  Phelps,  our  late  Minister  to  England,  at  his  leave- 
taking  in  London,  1889.  "  You  are  not  sending  me 
away,"  he  said  to  the  distinguished  company  he  was 
addressing,  "  you  are  not  sending  me  away  empty- 
handed  or  alone.  I  go  freighted  and  laden  with 
happy  memories,  inexhaustible  and  unalloyed,  of  Eng- 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  ij 

land,  its  warm-hearted  people,  and  their  measureless 
kindness.  Spirits  more  than  twain  will  cross  with 
me,  messengers  of  your  good-will.  Happy  the  nation 
that  can  thus  speed  its  parting  guest !  Fortunate  the 
guest  who  has  found  his  welcome  almost  an  adoption, 
and  whose  farewell  leaves  half  his  heart  behind."  I 
put  with  this  passage,  so  felicitous  in  expression,  an 
extract  from  a  letter  from  Lord  Coleridge  to  myself, 
written  immediately  after  the  Phelps  dinner. 

"  We  sent  away  Mr.  Phelps  in  a  perfect  gale  of  good 
wishes.  I  like  him  very  much,  and  truly  grieve  at  his  depar- 
ture. I  have  known  a  good  many  American  Ministers,  and 
some  of  them  very  remarkable,  almost  great  men,  but  I  never 
knew  one  so  delightful  in  all  ways,  learned,  accomplished, 
amiable,  a  most  charming  companion  to  spend  a  week  with, 
and  yet  a  most  prudent  and  dignified  Minister ;  he  is  one  of 
the  very  best  men  in  all  ways  you  have  ever  sent  us.  We 
became  real  friends,  and  it  would  be  a  sorrow  to  me  to  think 
that  I  should  never  see  him  again." 

Lord  Coleridge  adds,  in  reference  to  a  remark  of 
mine,  for  which  I  naturally  take  shame, — 

"  I  am  surprised  that  he  was,  as  you  tell  me,  somewhat 
unknown  in  America.  I  can  only  say  it  reminds  me  of  Lord 
Brougham's  famous  sarcastic  dedication  to  Lord  Wellesley  in 
which,  after  celebrating  Lord  Wellesley  himself,  he  adds  (to 
the  effect,  I  forget  the  words)  the  rare  felicity  of  England  — 
so  rich  in  men  of  genius  and  capacity  for  affairs  —  that  she 
can  spare  from  her  councils  such  men  as  he." 

I  saw  in  London,  at  my  visit  of  1849,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington.  I  stood,  at  about  five  in  the  afternoon, 
at  the  entrance  of  the   House  of  Lords.     Some  one 


1 8  WORDSWORTH  AXD    THE   COLERIDGES 

who  was  near  gave  me  one  famous  name  after  another 
as  Peers,  temporal  and  spiritual,  went  in.  A  great 
debate  was  to  take  place  on  a  motion  of  Lord 
Brougham's.  Soon  a  carriage  drew  up,  and  there 
was  the  cry,  "  The  Duke,  the  Duke ! "  The  Duke 
of  Wellington  w^as  handed  out.  I  can  never  forget 
the  strangely  softened,  the  benignant  expression  of 
the  aged  face  which  I  had  now  the  happiness  to  look 
upon.  He  acknowledged  slightly  the  deferential  bear- 
ing of  all  who  stood  by,  as  he  passed  from  his  carriage 
to  the  Peers'  entrance  of  the  House  of  Lords.  His 
meek  look  was  what  first  struck  me  —  a  mild  serenity 
—  the  happiest  result  of  advanced  age.  His  hair  was 
white,  but  his  complexion  was  clear  and  delicate.  He 
was  in  full  evening  dress,  knee  breeches  and  black 
silk  stockings,  blue  coat  and  white  waistcoat,  a  broad 
ribbon  across  his  breast  —  the  ribbon  of  the  Garter. 

I  was  present  afterwards  at  the  debate,  and  watched 
from  my  seat  in  the  gallery  the  Duke  as  he  sat  close  to 
Lord  Brougham,  listening  with  his  hand  to  his  ear,  to 
the  words  of  that  great  orator.  He  remained,  I  think, 
during  the  whole  of  the  speech,  which  lasted  two  and 
a  half  hours.  As  I  listened  I  hardly  perceived  the 
passage  of  time.  I  am  not  sure  whether  it  was  then, 
or  on  another  occasion,  that  Lord  Brougham  said, 
lookins;  directlv  at  the  Duke,  "  For,  mv  Lords,  there 
are  few  men  who,  like  my  noble  friend,  have  been 
equally  great  in  council  and  in  the  field." 

With  my  own  impression  of  Wellington  given 
above,  it  was  a  delight   to  me   to   read   Carlyle's  ac- 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  19 

count  of  him  as  he  saw  him  in  June,  1850,  a  year  after 
the  date  of  my  seeing  him  ;  it  was  at  a  ball  at  Lady 
Ashburton's.     He  says  :  — 

"  By  far  the  most  interesting  figure  present  was  the  old 
Duke  of  Wellington,  who  appeared  between  twelve  and  one, 
and  slowly  glided  through  the  rooms  —  truly  a  beautiful  old 
man  :  I  had  never  known  till  no\t  how  beautiful  :  and  what 
an  expression  of  graceful  simplicity,  veracity,  and  nobleness 
there  is  about  the  old  hero,  when  you  see  him  close  at  hand  ! 
His  very  size  had  hitherto  deceived  me.  He  is  a  shortish, 
slightish  figure,  about  five  feet  eight,  of  good  breadth,  how- 
ever, and  all  muscle  or  bone.  His  legs  I  think  the  short  part 
of  him,  for  certainly  on  horseback  I  have  always  taken  him 
to  be  tall.  Eyes  beautiful  light  blue,  full  of  mild  valour,  with 
infinitely  more  faculty  and  geniality  than  I  had  fancied  be- 
fore. The  face  wholly  gentle,  wise,  valiant,  and  venerable. 
The  voice  too,  as  I  again  heard,  is  aquiline,  clear,  perfectly 
equable,  uncracked  that  is  —  and  perhaps  almost  musical,  but 
essentially  tenor,  almost  treble  voice.  Eighty-two,  I  under- 
stand. He  glided  slowly  along,  slightly  saluting  this  and 
that  other,  clear,  clean,  fresh  as  this  June  morning  itself,  till 
the  silver  buckle  of  his  stock  vanished  into  the  door  of  the 
next  room.  Except  Dr.  Chalmers  I  have  not  for  many  years 
seen  so  beautiful  an  old  man." 

It  is  good  to  connect  great  men  with  each  other,  so 
I  add  a  description  of  Wellington  of  the  date  of  1826, 
twenty-five  years  earlier  than  that  of  Carlyle's  men- 
tion of  him.  I  quote  from  Eckermann's  "  Conversa- 
tions with  Goethe."     Eckermann  says  :  — 

"  If  you  ever  look  at  his  face,  all  the  portraits  are  naught. 
One  needs  only  see  him  once  never  to  forget  him,  such  an 
impression  does  he  make.     His  eyes  are  of  the  serenest  brill- 


20  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

iancy ;  one  feels  the  effect  of  his  glance  ;  his  mouth  speaks 
even  when  it  is  closed  ;  he  looks  a  man  who  has  had  many- 
thoughts,  and  has  lived  through  the  greatest  deeds,  and  whom 
nothing  more  can  disturb.  He  seemed  to  me  as  hard  and 
tempered  as  a  Damascus  blade.  By  his  appearance  he  is 
far  advanced  in  the  fifties  ;  is  upright,  slim  and  not  very  tall 
or  stout.  There  was  something  uncommonly  cordial  in  his 
salutation,  as  he  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  with  a  very 
slight  bow  touched  his  hat  with  his  finger.  Goethe  listened 
to  my  description  with  visible  interest.  '  You  have  seen  one 
hero  more,'  said  he,  '  and  that  is  saying  something.'  Napo- 
leon was  mentioned.  Goethe  said  of  him,  '  What  a  compen- 
dium of  the  world.'  " 

Lord  John  Russell  was  Prime  Minister  in  that  year 
of  my  first  visit  to  England,  1849.  I  heard  him  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  —  a  man  of  halting,  hesitat- 
ing speech,  but  whose  words,  all  the  same,  were  well 
chosen  and  weighty.  I  had  the  good  fortune,  also,  to 
hear  Sir  Robert  Peel,  an  orator  of  infinite  grace.  The 
debate  was  on  the  Encumbered  Estates  Bill,  the  sec- 
ond of  the  great  measures  for  the  relief  of  Ireland 
passed  by  the  British  Parliament.  The  Catholic 
Emancipation  Bill  of  1829  was  the  first.  ]\Ir.  Napier, 
member  for  Dublin  University,  followed  Sir  Robert 
Peel.  One  sentence  of  his  speech  comes  back  to  me. 
Speaking  of  Ireland,  he  said,  "  Sir,  I  am  sure  there  is 
no  member  of  this  House  who  does  not  feel  deep  sym- 
pathy with  that  unhappy  country  in  its  present  mis- 
ery."    It  was  the  year  following  the  great  famine. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  debate  in  the  House  of  Lords 
in  which  Lord  Brougham  made  his  great  speech  ;  he 
moved  a  resolution  of  censure  of  the   Government  for 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  21 

not  withholding  assent  to  the  action  of  the  Canadian 
Parliament  by  which  the  rebels  of  183S  were  to  be 
remunerated  for  their  losses,  chiefly  in  the  burning  of 
houses,  barns,  etc.  Lord  Derby,  "  the  Rupert  of  de- 
bate," spoke  with  great  fire  and  energy  in  support  of 
Brougham's  motion.  Lord  Lyndhurst  had  spoken 
on  the  same  side,  saying,  at  the  end,  that  it  was  per- 
haps the  last  time  he  should  trouble  their  Lordships. 
Lord  Campbell,  speaking  for  the  Government,  rather 
jeered  at  this  remark  of  Lyndhurst.  Lord  Derby  de- 
nounced Campbell  for  his  sneering  reference  to  the 
speech  of  the  venerable  man.  (As  it  happened,  how- 
ever, Lord  Lyndhurst  spoke  at  intervals  for  fifteen 
years  afterward.) 

Lord  Brougham's  motion  prevailed  by  a  good  ma- 
jority, but  the  House  of  Commons  refused  to  follow 
the  Lords.  Earl  Grey  was  then  the  Colonial  Secre- 
tary: it  was  his  wisdom  that  inspired  Lord  Russell's 
Government  in  their  refusal  to  withdraw  from  Can- 
ada the  self-rule  they  had  but  just  conferred. 

It  scarcely  befits  the  gravity  of  my  record,  but  it 
may  perhaps  help  to  the  understanding  of  what  the 
going  to  Europe  was  fifty  years  ago,  if  I  mention 
the  following  incident.  I  was  walking,  soon  after 
my  first  return,  in  a  street  in  Philadelphia  with  Dr. 
Allibone,  of  Dictionary  fame.  There  were  cases  of 
merchandise  or  other  obstruction,  and  we  had  to  go 
single  file.  "  After  you,"  said  my  friend  ;  "  you  have 
been  to  Europe." 

I  have  told  in  papers  which  follow  of  many  of  my 


22  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

personal  experiences  in  visits  to  England,  subsequent 
to  that  of  1849.  It  occurs  to  me  to  say  here  what  I 
can  of  a  man  of  whom  comparatively  little  is  known 
except  as  he  appears  in  his  writings.  John  Stuart 
Mill  never  took  part  in  what  would  be  called 
society ;  he  seemed  to  live  only  for  intellectual  cul- 
tivation, and  for  setting  forward  in  the  world  what 
he  thought  would  further  the  real  improvement  of 
men.  There  is  a  noble  passage  in  a  speech  made 
by  him  in  the  House  of  Commons  which  I  give  here 
as  a  key  to  the  essential  features  of  his  character, 
and  as  a  preface  to  what  I  have  to  say  as  to  my 
personal  sight  of  him. 

"  I  beg  very  strongly  indeed  to  press  upon  the  House  the 
duty  of  taking  these  things  into  serious  consideration,  in  the 
name  of  that  dutiful  concern  for  posterity  which  has  been 
very  strong  in  every  nation  that  ever  did  anything  great,  and 
which  has  never  left  the  minds  of  any  such  nation  until,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  Romans  under  the  Empire,  it  was  already 
falling  into  decrepitude  and  ceasing  to  be  a  nation.  .  .  . 
Whatever  has  been  done  for  mankind  by  the  idea  of  poster- 
ity —  whatever  has  been  done  for  mankind  by  philanthropic 
concern  for  posterity  —  by  a  conscientious  sense  of  duty  for 
posterity  —  even  by  the  less  pure  but  still  noble  ambition  of 
being  remembered  and  honoured  by  them,  —  all  this  we  owe 
to  posterity,  and  all  this  it  is  our  duty,  to  the  best  of  our 
limited  ability,  to  repay.  All  the  great  deeds  of  the  founders 
of  nations,  and  of  those  second  founders  of  nations,  the  great 
reformers;  —  all  that  has  been  done  for  us  by  the  authors  of 
those  laws  and  institutions  to  which  free  countries  are  in- 
debted for  their  freedom,  and  well-governed  countries  for 
their  good  government,  —  all  the  heroic  lives  which  have 
been  led  and  the  deaths  which  have  been  died  in  defence  of 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  23 

liberty  and  law  against  despotism  and  tyranny,  from  Mara- 
thon and  Salamis  down  to  Leipsic  and  Waterloo  —  all  those 
traditions  of  wisdom  and  of  virtue  which  are  enshrined  in 
the  history  and  literature  of  the  past,  —  all  the  schools  and 
universities  by  which  the  culture  of  a  former  time  has  been 
brought  down  to  us,  and  all  that  culture  itself  —  all  that  we 
owe  to  the  great  masters  of  human  thought,  to  the  great 
masters  of  human  emotion  —  all  this  is  ours,  because  those 
who  preceded  us  have  taken  thought  for  posterity." 

It  is  well  known  that  for  many  years  —  perhaps 
twenty  —  Mr.  Mill  lived  in  the  closest  intellectual 
companionship  with  Mrs.  John  Taylor;  their  thoughts 
and  speculations,  he  says,  w^ere  completely  in  com- 
mon. She  was  united.  Mill  also  says,  to  one  for 
whom  he  had  "the  sincerest  respect,  and  she  the 
strongest  affection.  Her  incomparable  worth,"  he 
declares,  "had  made  her  friendship  the  greatest  source 
to  him  both  of  happiness  and  of  improvement "  dur- 
ing many  years  in  which  they  "  never  expected  to  be 
in  any  closer  relation  to  each  other."  Mr.  Taylor's 
premature  death  in  July,  1849,  was  followed  in  April, 
185 1,  by  Mr.  Mill's  marriage  to  Mrs.  Taylor;  their 
partnership  of  "  thought,  feeling,  and  writing,  which 
had  long  existed,  became  a  partnership  of  their  en- 
tire existence." 

It  is  proper  to  say  that  the  Carlyles,  and  Mrs. 
Grote  and  the  Austins  and  Sir  Henry  Taylor,  with 
whom  Mill  had  intimate  companionship,  seem  hardly 
to  have  had  a  share  in  his  friendship  with  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor: he  was  not  the  man  to  make  explanations  to 
them,  or  to  crave   their    forbearing    judgment.      Mr. 


24  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Carlyle  speaks  of  her,  in  his  caustic  way,  in  one  of 
his  letters,  as  Mrs.  Platonica  Taylor. 

Mr.  Taylor,  as  I  have  said,  died  in  July,  1849.  It 
was  in  June  of  that  year  that  Mr.  Herbert  Taylor,  the 
eldest  son  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor,  with  whom  I  had 
become  acquainted  upon  a  visit  he  had  made  to  Phila- 
delphia some  months  before,  said  to  me  when  I  was 
with  him  in  London,  "  I  cannot  ask  you  to  our  house 
for  my  father  is  dying."  In  1851,  my  friend  Herbert 
Taylor  was  again  in  Philadelphia.  He  gave  me  a 
paper  on  the  "  Enfranchisement  of  Women,"  which 
he  said  was  from  the  pen  of  his  mother:  he  added, 
"  my  mother  has  become  Mrs.  Mill."  He  told  me 
then  of  the  long  friendship  there  had  been  between 
his  mother  and  Mr.  Mill,  for  whom  he  seemed  to  have 
nothing  but  respect  and  regard.  The  following  year, 
1852,  I  was  in  London  and  received  an  invitation  to 
dine  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mill  at  their  home,  Black- 
heath,  near  Greenwich.  What  I  have  written  above 
will  show  that  I  had  no  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Mill  but 
what  had  been  told  me  by  her  son.  Seven  years  were 
to  pass  before  Mill  gave  to  the  world  his  estimate  of 
her  mind  and  character  in  his  dedication  of  his  book 
on  Liberty.     Some  of  his  words  are  as  follows :  — 

"  To  the  beloved  and  deplored  memory  of  her  who  was 
the  inspirer  and  in  part  the  author  of  all  that  is  best  in  my 
writings  —  the  friend  and  wife  whose  exalted  sense  of  truth 
and  right  was  my  strongest  incitement,  and  whose  approba- 
tion was  my  chief  reward,  I  dedicate  this  volume.  .  .  .  Were 
I  but  capable  of  interpreting  to  the  world  one-half  the  great 


OCCASIOiVAL  RECOLLECTION'S 


25 


thoughts  and  noble  feelings  which  are  buried  in  her  grave,  I 
should  be  the  medium  of  a  greater  benefit  to  it  than  is  ever 
likely  to  arise  from  anything  that  I  can  write  unprompted 
and  unassisted  by  her  all  but  unrivalled  wisdom." 

My  visit  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mill  was  in  the  second 
year  of  their  marriage:  the  record  in  my  journal  is 
mainly  this :  — 

"  Mr.  Mill  is  of  dignified  appearance,  about  forty-five  years 
of  age,  somewhat  bald,  complexion  delicate,  of  a  grave  but 
sweet  courtesy.  He  has  a  nervous  twitching  of  the  eyelids, 
which  perhaps  leads  to  his  raising  his  hand  now  and  again 
to  his  brow.  There  is  something  almost  of  timidity  in  his 
manner,  which  surprises  one,  considering  his  great  place  in 
the  world  as  a  writer.  He  is  especially  courteous  in  giving 
careful  heed  to  what  is  said  to  him.  You  feel  him  to  be  a 
man  of  good  heart,  and  of  entire  simplicity.  I  was  struck 
with  his  deferential  attention  to  remarks  of  his  wife  from 
her  end  of  the  table.  Mrs.  Mill  looks  to  be  in  very  weak 
health,  having  a  cur\^ature  of  the  spine.  Mr.  Mill  took  her 
out  to  dinner,  I  think  because  of  her  enfeebled  condition.  I 
took  out  Mrs.  Taylor,  an  old  lady,  I  presume  Mrs.  Mill's 
mother-in-law  of  her  previous  marriage.  Her  two  sons  and 
her  daughter,  Miss  Helen  Taylor,  made  up  the  party.  My 
seat  was  at  Mrs.  Mill's  right.  Her  face  is  thin  and  pale,  but 
her  eyes  are  of  a  peculiar  lustre,  and  they  seem  to  dilate 
when  she  speaks  in  an  animated  way,  and  her  soul  looks  out 
of  them.  A  woman  of  keen  intellect  there  can  be  no  doubt 
whatever  —  marvellously  in  fellowship  with  her  husband  in 
all  his  thought.  When  she  looks  fully  at  you  and  becomes 
interested  in  her  subject,  she  seems  to  put  you  under  her 
spell.  I  recalled  my  feeling  when  with  Mrs.  Henry  Nelson 
Coleridge ;  it  seemed  strange  to  me  that  these  two  women, 
each  so  gifted,  living  at  the  same  time  in  London,  should 
have  known  nothing  of  each  other. 


26  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

"  There  was  talk  of  the  English  Universities  and  of  Eng- 
lish scholarship  —  Mr.  Mill  spoke  disparagingly  of  both  — 
said  they  were  not  to  compare  with  the  German.  Mrs.  Mill 
was  careful  to  impress  upon  me  that  her  husband  was 
competent  to  give  this  opinion,  being  himself  of  excellent 
classical  learning.  Mr.  Mill  spoke  of  our  American  slavery, 
in  answer  to  a  remark  of  mine,  with  strong  condemnation ; 
he  would  not  admit  that  any  defence  for  it  could  be  made. 
Kossuth,  who  has  lately  been  here,  as  also  in  America,  he 
expressed  sympathy  with  —  as  to  his  faults  which  people 
spoke  of,  it  was  but  another  way  of  saying  he  was  an  Hun- 
garian. '  Puseyism '  was  spoken  of.  Mr.  Mill  said  it  was  the 
'romance  of  Church  of  Englandism.'  Of  Dr.  Pusey  both 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mill  spoke  as  a  true  and  a  very  earnest  man, 
for  whom  they  felt  sincere  respect." 

I  have  little  other  record  of  conversation  on  this,  to 
me,  most  interesting  occasion.  The  feeling  that  chiefly 
remains  with  me,  after  the  great  lapse  of  years,  is  my 
sense  of  the  intellectual  companionship  of  Mr.  Mill 
and  his  wife.  He  had  at  that  time  written  nothing 
concerning  her :  ^  it  seemed  plain  to  me  that  here  was 
a  mind  which  was  on  a  level  with  his  own. 

John  Stuart  Mill  became  a  Member  of  Parliament 
in  1865.  He  consented  to  stand  for  Westminster 
only  on  the  condition  that  no  money  whatever  was  to 
be  contributed  by  himself  toward  the  expenses  of  the 
election.  I  remember  standing  with  William  Edward 
Forster  and  Matthew  Arnold  in  Forster's  drawing- 
room  on  the  evening  of  the  day  the  announcement 
was  made  that  Mill  was  to  stand.     Forster  made  the 

1  Herbert  Taylor  told  me  that  some  of  the  copies  of  Mill's  "  Political 
Economy"  were  dedicated  to  iMrs.  Taylor,  not  the  whole  issue. 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTIONS  27 

prediction  that  he  would  not  succeed  in  the  House. 
His  first  speech  was,  it  is  true,  a  failure,  but  on  every 
subsequent  occasion  he  was  listened  to  with  the  great- 
est interest.  Mill  stood  again  in  1868,  but  was  de- 
feated by  W.  H.  Smith,  a  man  of  great  wealth  and 
influence. 

In  1849,  I  went  by  steamer  from  London  to  Rot- 
terdam, so  that  my  first  sight  of  the  continent  was 
Holland,  with  its  canals,  and  its  windmills,  and  its 
quaint  costumes,  and  customs,  some  of  which  are  no 
longer  the  delight  of  travellers.  Ascending  the  Rhine, 
I  entered  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden,  and  at  the  town 
of  Carlsruhe  my  further  progress  on  the  east  bank  of 
the  river  was  stopped  by  military  operations.  An  in- 
surrection against  the  rule  of  the  Grand  Duke  had 
only  been  put  down  by  the  coming  of  fifteen  thousand 
Prussian  troops,  with  the  Prince  of  Prussia  at  their 
head,  afterward  the  Emperor  William.  The  remain- 
ing insurgents  were  shut  up  in  the  walled  town  of 
Rastadt,  fifteen  miles  distant,  and  the  Baden  troops 
with  the  Prussians  were  laying  siege  to  it.  With  much 
difificulty  my  companion  and  I  obtained  permission  to 
go  down  in  a  military  train  to  look  on  at  the  siege.  I 
enjoyed  hugely  the  excitement  of  it  all,  and  the  novel 
feeling  of  being  near  to  actual  warfare.  I  mention 
this  because  of  the  following  curious  circumstance. 
A  month  or  two  ago  (1889),  at  a  Civil  Service  Reform 
dinner  in  Philadelphia,  my  seat  chanced  to  be  next  to 
Mr.  Carl  Schurz,  whom  I  had  never  met  before.  After 
some  preliminaries  of  talk,  I  said  to  him,  "  You,  I  be- 


28  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

lieve,  were  of  the  force  which  was  shut  up  in  Rastadt 
exactly  forty  years  ago,  when  the  Prussians  and  the 
Baden  troops  laid  siege  to  the  town."  He  answered 
quickly,  "  I  was,"  and  seemed  much  surprised.  I  told 
him  I  was  present  on  one  of  the  days  of  the  siege  as 
a  looker-on.  I  spoke  of  a  little  old  church  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Mugglesturm  close  to  Rastadt,  the  spire  of 
which  we  had  ascended  to  look  across  to  the  walled 
town.  He  said  he  knew  the  church  well ;  they  "  had 
a  fight  there  at  a  sortie  on  June  30."  My  visit  was 
on  July  4.  Mr.  Schurz,  as  I  knew,  then  a  very 
young  man,  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  insurrection, 
and  would  doubtless  have  been  shot  if  he  had  been 
captured.  The  place,  I  think,  held  out  for  six 
weeks.  "  How  did  you  get  away  ? "  I  asked.  He 
said,  "Through  the  sewer;"  he  and  two  compan- 
ions ;  they  were  for  three  days  without  food. 

Little  did  I  think  that  of  the  military  leaders, 
shut  up  in  that  small  town,  was  one  who  was  to  fieht, 
in  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of  the  world,  on  the  soil 
of  my  own  State,  Pennsylvania.  General  Schurz  com- 
manded a  division  at  Gettysburg. 

I  will  not  indulge  in  any  raptures  in  regard  to  my 
first  sight  of  Switzerland,  though  the  day  of  one's  first 
glimpse  of  a  snow  mountain  is  one  to  date  from.  I 
may  refer  to  my  journey  from  Geneva  to  Paris,  when 
my  Swiss  tour  was  over,  because  the  mode  of  travel  is 
entirely  of  the  past.  I  went  by  malle-poste,  limited  to 
two  passengers.  Railway  there  was  none  in  that  part 
of  France.     At  three  in  the  afternoon  we  left  Geneva 


OCCASIONAL  RECOLLECTION'S  29 

in  a  sort  of  open  barouche,  with  four  horses,  —  my 
Geneva  fellow-traveller  and  I.  We  had  each  a  cold 
chicken  and  a  bottle  of  wine ;  and  my  companion  had 
some  macaroons  which,  he  said,  were  a  specialise  of 
Geneva.  I  remember  their  perfection  to  this  day ! 
The  postilion  cracked  his  whip  portentously,  and  the 
guard,  from  his  high  seat  behind,  blew  his  horn.  Off 
we  went  at  high  speed.  In  ascending  the  glorious 
slopes  of  the  Jura  we  went  at  a  fast  trot,  but  for  the 
rest  of  the  way,  wherever  the  ground  would  permit,  at 
full  gallop.  So  we  sped  along,  night  and  day,  through 
the  poplar  valleys  of  France,  by  Dijon,  and  by  many 
a  village  of  white-walled  houses  — making  the  journey 
of  some  330  miles  at  an  average  speed  of  ten  or  eleven 
miles  an  hour.  I  remember  the  irresistible  appeal  of 
a  beggar  at  Dijon  —  it  was  that  we  would  not  refuse 
him,  we  who  were  travelling  so  joyfully! 

It  was  in  the  grey  of  the  morning  that  I  had  my 
first  sight  of  Paris.  Our  entry  was  in  the  quarter 
of  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  —  something  truly  to 
awaken  memory!  —  on  and  on,  through  the  then 
silent  streets  to  the  beautiful  Rue  de  Rivoli  and  to 
the  Hotel  IMeurice.  The  windows  of  the  room 
assigned  me  opened  upon  the  leads.  I  stepped  out 
and  there  before  me  was  the  fair  garden  of  the  Tui- 
leries;  in  the  distance  were  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame 
and  the  dome  of  the  Invalides,  to  the  right  was  the 
Obelisk,  and  far  away  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  —  to  the 
left  the  stately  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  glorious  re- 
naissance work  —  now,  alas!   every  stone  of  it  gone. 


30  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

To  many  who  read,  the  mention  of  these  names  will 
bring  back  happy  memories.  I  found  the  great  build- 
ings daubed  with  the  words  "  Liberte,  Egalite,  Frater- 
nite."  It  was  the  first  year  of  the  Republic  under  the 
presidency  of  Louis  Napoleon.  I  had  the  strongest 
sense  that  there  was  no  stability  in  the  then  state  of 
things  —  that  there  would  be  no  continuance  of  con- 
stitutional government  under  the  then  Chief  Magis- 
trate. "  You  don't  suppose  he  is  only  to  be  President 
for  three  years,"  Lucien  Murat,  then  a  member  of  the 
Assemblee  Nationale,  said  to  me.  In  two  years  came 
the  cotip  d'etat,  and  then  the  miserable  personal  rule 
of  Louis  Napoleon  began,  of  which  the  end  was  not 
to  be  for  twenty  years.  When  I  next  saw  Paris  in 
1852,  Murat,  formerly  of  Bordentown,  New  Jersey, 
had  become  his  Imperial  Highness,  the  Prince  Lu- 
cien Murat.  Most  true  was  the  after  remark  of 
Gambetta,  "  the  Bonapartists  were  not  a  party,  but  a 
horde." 


A  VISIT  TO  WORDSWORTH,    1849 


A   VISIT   TO   WORDSWORTH 

It  was  about  noon  on  the  eighteenth  of  August, 
1849,  that  I  started  with  my  friends  from  their  house 
near  Bowness  to  drive  to  Ambleside.  Our  route  was 
along  the  shore  of  Lake  Windermere.  My  friends 
congratulated  me  on  the  clearness  of  the  atmosphere 
and  the  bright  skies.  Sunlight  is  all  important  in 
bringing  out  the  full  beauty  of  the  Lake  Region,  and 
in  this  respect  I  was  very  fortunate.  I  had  been  al- 
ready deeply  moved  by  the  tranquil  beauty  of  Win- 
dermere, for  as  I  came  out  of  the  cottage,  EUeray, 
formerly  Professor  Wilson's,  where  I  had  passed  the 
night,  there  it  lay  in  all  its  grandeur,  —  its  clear 
waters,  its  green  islands,  and  its  girdle  of  solemn 
mountains.  It  was  quite  dark  when  I  was  conducted 
to  this  cottage  the  night  before,  so  that  I  saw  the 
lake  for  the  first  time  in  the  light  of  early  morning. 
The  first  impression  was  confirmed  by  ever}^  new 
prospect  as  we  drove  along.  The  vale  seemed  a  very 
paradise  for  its  sweet  seclusion.  I  had  been  told  that, 
after  Switzerland,  I  should  find  little  to  attract  me  in 
this  region,  but  such  was  not  the  case.  Nothing  can 
be  more  lovely  than  these  lakes  and  mountains,  the 
latter  thickly  wooded  and  rising  directly  from  the 
water's  edge.  The  foliage  is  of  the  darkest  green, 
o  33 


34  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

giving  to  the  lake  in  which  it  is  reflected  the  same 
sombre  hue. 

It  was  half  past  one  when  we  reached  Ambleside, 

when  I  left  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B and  walked  on  alone 

to  Rydal  Mount.  At  two  o'clock  I  was  at  the  wicket 
gate  opening  into  Wordsworth's  grounds.  I  walked 
along  the  gravel  pathway  leading  through  shrubbery 
to  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  long  two-story  cot- 
tage, the  poet's  dwelling.  The  view  from  it  is  its 
chief  charm.  Rydalmere,  with  its  islands,  and  the 
mountains  beyond  it,  are  all  in  sight.  I  had  but  a 
hasty  enjoyment  of  all  this  beauty ;  nor  could  I  notice 
carefully  the  flowers  which  were  around.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  the  greatest  attention  had  been  paid  to  the 
grounds,  for  the  flowerbeds  were  tastefully  arranged, 
and  the  gravel  walks  were  in  complete  order. 

My  letter  of  introduction  was  from  my  friend.  Pro- 
fessor Henry  Reed,  Wordsworth's  chief  American 
disciple.  I  was  shown  to  the  drawing-room.  It  was 
with  a  curious  emotion  that  I  felt  myself  in  the  house 
of  the  great  poet  and  awaiting  his  coming.  It  was 
a  long  apartment,  the  ceiling  low,  with  two  windows 
at  one  end  looking  out  on  the  lawn  and  shrubbery. 
Many  engravings  were  on  the  walls.  The  famous 
Madonna  of  Raphael,  known  as  that  of  the  Dresden 
gallery,  hung  directly  over  the  fireplace.  Inman's 
portrait  of  the  poet.  Professor  Reed's  gift  to  Mrs. 
Wordsworth,  had  a  conspicuous  place.  I  could  have 
waited  patiently  a  long  time  indulging  the  thoughts 
which  the  place  called  up.     In  a  few  minutes,  how- 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  35. 

ever,  I  heard  steps  in  the  entry,  the  door  was  opened, 
and  Wordsworth  came  in;  it  could  be  no  other  —  a 
tall  figure,  a  little  bent  with  age,  his  hair  thin  and 
grey,  and  his  face  deeply  wrinkled.  The  expression 
of  his  countenance  was  sad,  mournful  I  might  say; 
he  seemed  one  on  whom  sorrow  pressed  heavily.  He 
gave  me  his  hand  and  welcomed  me  cordially,  though 
without  smiling.  Leading  the  way,  he  conducted  me 
at  once  to  the  dining  room.  I  could  not  but  notice 
that  his  step  was  feeble.  At  the  head  of  the  table 
sat  Mrs.  Wordsworth,  and  their  three  grandchildren 
made  up  the  party.  It  was  a  quaint  apartment,  not 
ceiled,  the  rafters  dark  with  age  being  visible ;  having 
a  large  old-fashioned  fireplace  with  a  high  mantel- 
piece. 

Wordsworth  asked  after  Mr.  George  Ticknor  of 
Boston,  who  had  visited  him  a  few  months  before, 
and  for  whom  he  expressed  much  regard.  Some 
other  questions  led  me  to  speak  of  the  progress  we 
were  making  in  America  in  the  extension  of  our  ter- 
ritory; the  settlement  of  California,  which  was  then 
going  forward,  the  eager  rush  of  population  to  the 
Pacific  coast  —  all  this  involving  the  rapid  spread  of 
our  English  speech.  Wordsworth  at  this  looked  up, 
and  I  noticed  a  fixing  of  his  eye  as  if  on  some  remote 
object.  He  said  that  considering  this  extension  of 
our  language,  it  behoved  those  who  wrote  to  see  to 
it  that  what  they  put  forth  was  on  the  side  of  virtue. 
This  remark,  although  thrown  out  at  the  moment, 
was   made   in  a  serious,  thoughtful   way,  and  I  was 


36  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

much  impressed  by  it.  I  could  not  but  reflect  that 
to  him  a  deep  sense  of  responsibihty  had  ever  been 
present;  to  purify  and  elevate  had  been  the  purpose 
of  all  his  writings. 

Some  inquiries  having  been  made  as  to  my  travels, 
"What  are  they  doing  in  France.^"  was  a  question 
that  followed.  I  said  every  one  felt  there  was  no 
stability  in  the  existing  government ;  a  speedy  change 
was  looked  for;  all  was  uncertainty.  Referring  to  the 
revolution  of  the  previous  year,  Wordsworth  remarked 
that  Louis  Philippe  and  Guizot  had  shown  a  sad  want 
of  courage,  but  for  this  the  result  might  have  been 
very  different.  Lamartine  he  spoke  of  very  slight- 
ingly, "  a  poor  writer  of  verses,  not  having  the  least 
claim  to  be  considered  a  statesman." 

Queen  Victoria  was  mentioned ;  her  visit  to  Ire- 
land which  had  just  been  made ;  the  courage  she  had 
shown.  "  That  is  a  virtue,"  said  he,  "  which  she  has 
to  a  remarkable  degree." 

Mrs.  Wordsworth  invited  me  to  take  wine  with 
her ;  and  this  reminds  me  that  I  have  said  nothing 
about  her.  She  seemed  most  refined  and  simple  man- 
nered, about  the  same  age  as  her  husband,  slender,  her 
face  much  furrowed,  features  small ;  she  was  dressed 
in  black.  I  could  see  that  she  was  still  mistress  of 
her  household,  presiding  with  dignity  and  natural 
grace.  Dinner  being  over,  she  rose,  saying  they  fol- 
lowed the  American  fashion  of  not  sitting  long  at 
the  table,  and  led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room.  She 
took  a  seat  on  one  side  of  the  bright  fire,  and  Words- 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  37 

worth  on  the  other.  He  seemed  now  fully  in  the 
vein  for  conversation,  although  the  sadness  of  his 
manner  still  continued.  I  knew  the  cause  of  this :  it 
was  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Quillinan. 

Inman's  portrait  of  him  I  alluded  to  as  being  very 
familiar  to  me,  the  copy  which  hung  in  the  room  call- 
ing it  to  mind :  this  led  him  to  speak  of  the  one 
painted  by  Pickersgill  for  St.  John's  College,  Cam- 
bridge. "  I  was  a  member  of  that  college,"  he  said, 
"  and  the  Fellows  and  students  did  me  the  honour 
to  ask  me  to  sit,  and  allowed  me  to  choose  the  artist. 
I  wrote  to  Mr.  Rogers  on  the  subject,  and  he  recom- 
mended Pickersgill,  who  came  down  soon  afterwards, 
and  the  picture  was  painted  here."  He  believed  he 
had  sat  twenty-three  times.  My  impression  is  he  was 
in  doubt  whether  Inman's  or  Pickersgill's  portrait 
was  the  better  one.  I  think  it  was  this  mention  of 
honours  which  had  been  paid  to  him  which  seemed 
to  bring  to  mind  the  University  degrees  he  had  re- 
ceived. Oxford  and  Durham  had  made  him  D.C.L. 
Cambridge  would  have  done  the  same  had  he  not 
declined.  Mrs.  Wordsworth  smiled  as  he  said  this, 
though  without  looking  up  from  her  knitting,  as  if 
he  was  speaking  too  much  of  his  own  dignities.  But 
there  was  perfect  simplicity  and  naturalness  in  his 
way  of  saying  this. 

Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  was  mentioned,  which 
was  founded  by  Henry  VHI.  Of  that  king  he  spoke 
in  terms  of  the  strongest  abhorrence.  1  wish  I  could 
recall  his  exact  words ;   the  concluding  sentence  was. 


38  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

"  I  loathe  his  very  memory."  I  alluded  to  Holbein's 
portrait  of  Henry  which  I  had  lately  seen  at  Oxford 
—  at  the  Bodleian  Library.  "  Yes,  there  he  is,"  he 
said,  "his  hand  grasping  the  dagger."  The  subject 
which  came  up  next  was  the  Chancellorship  of  Cam- 
bridge, Prince  Albert's  election  he  much  regretted. 
The  Earl  of  Powis,  he  thought,  ought  to  have  been 
chosen,  one  who  had  served  the  Church  faithfully,  and 
was  an  eminent  member  of  the  University.  Prince 
Albert,  he  considered,  had  no  claim  whatever :  had  he 
(Wordsworth)  still  retained  his  connection  with  the 
University,  he  should  have  gone  up  to  give  his  vote 
against  him.  The  Heads  of  Houses  and  others  had 
allowed  themselves  to  be  influenced  by  a  wish  to 
please  the  Queen;  which  was  not  a  worthy  motive 
in  a  case  like  this.  He  spoke  strongly,  saying,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  was  not  unmindful  of  the  position 
he  held  as  Poet  Laureate.  He  said  Prince  Albert's 
German  education,  his  training  at  Bonn,  was  in  itself 
a  disqualification.  He  was  supposed  to  entertain 
opinions  opposed  to  classical  study  as  pursued  at 
the  English  Universities,  and  to  have  intimated  a 
wish  for  extensive  changes.  This  Wordsworth  dep- 
recated strongly:  he  spoke  with  great  animation  of 
the  importance  of  the  study  of  the  classics  —  Greek 
especially.  "  Where,"  said  he,  "  would  one  look  for  a 
greater  orator  than  Demosthenes,  or  finer  dramatic 
poetry,  next  to  Shakespeare,  than  that  of  yEschylus 
and  Sophocles,  not  to  speak  of  Euripides.?"  Herod- 
otus he  thought  "  the   most  interesting  and  instruc- 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  39 

tive  book  next  to  the  Bible,  which  had  ever  been 
written."  Modern  discoveries  had  only  tended  to 
confirm  the  general  truth  of  his  narrative.  In  this, 
and  perhaps  other  things  that  Wordsworth  said,  there 
was  something  of  the  extravagance  which  might  be 
allowed  in  talk  to  make  one's  meaning  clear. 

Continuing  to  speak  of  Cambridge,  he  considered 
the  rule  an  unfortunate  one  which  obliged  those 
holding  Fellowships  to  resign  them  at  the  end  of 
seven  years  unless  they  took  Holy  Orders.  Many 
men,  he  said,  began  the  study  of  law  when  this  period 
was  over,  but  finding  their  academic  life  had  unfitted 
them  for  this  profession,  leading  them  as  it  did  to  the 
open  world,  they  returned  to  the  University,  and  took 
Orders  as  though  they  could  not  help  themselves. 
Archdeacon  Hare  was  one  of  these,  and  Bishop  Thirl- 
wall  (the  Bishop  of  St.  David's).  Of  the  former  he 
had  a  high  opinion,  although  he  did  not  agree  with 
him  as  to  some  of  his  judgments  —  his  extreme  ad- 
miration for  Luther,  for  instance.  Bishop  Thirlwall, 
he  said,  he  did  not  altogether  like,  his  manner  was 
disagreeable  to  him  —  he  had  a  "sneering  way  of  talk- 
ing." Mrs.  Wordsworth  reminded  her  husband,  in 
her  quiet  way,  that  he  was  now  a  bishop.  "  Well,  I 
hope  he  has  improved,  then.  I  speak  of  my  own  in- 
tercourse with  him  some  years  ago."  Moreover,  Mr. 
Thirlwall  had  proposed,  while  he  was  a  Fellow  at 
Cambridge,  that  the  attendance  of  the  students  at  the 
Daily  Service  should  no  longer  be  strictly  required. 
*'  This  my  brother,  who  was  Master  of  Trinity,  and 


40  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

whose  will  was  law  at  the  University,  strongly  op- 
posed." 

France  was  our  next  subject,  and  one  which  seemed 
very  near  his  heart.  He  had  been  much  in  that  coun- 
try at  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  and  afterward 
during  its  wildest  excesses.  He  was  at  Orleans  at  the 
time  of  the  September  massacres  in  Paris.  Address- 
ing Mrs.  Wordsworth,  he  said:  "  I  wonder  how  I  came 
to  stay  there  so  long,  and  at  a  period  so  exciting." 
He  had  known  many  of  the  abbe's  and  other  ecclesi- 
astics, and  thought  highly  of  them  as  a  class  :  they 
were  earnest,  faithful  men  :  being  unmarried,  he  must 
say  they  were  the  better  able  to  fulfil  their  sacred 
duties  ;  they  were  married  to  their  flocks.  In  the 
towns  there  seemed,  he  admitted,  very  little  religion ; 
but  in  the  country  there  had  always  been  a  great  deal. 
"  I  should  like  to  spend  another  month  in  France,"  he 
said,  "  before  I  close  my  eyes." 

Seeing  Manning's  Sermons  on  the  book-shelves,  I 
alluded  to  them,  and  mentioned  that  I  had  heard  the 
Archdeacon  in  London  a  short  time  before.  Mrs. 
Wordsworth  took  interest  in  my  account  and  joined 
almost  for  the  first  time  in  conversation.  The  ser- 
mons were  evidently  well  known  to  her  and  much 
valued.  Wordsworth  said  to  her,  calling  her  "  ]\Iary," 
"  Did  I  buy  that  copy  }  "  "  No,"  said  she  ;  "  it  was  a 
present."  "  From  the  Archdeacon  }  "  he  inquired. 
"No;  a  present  to  me  from  Miss  Fenwick."  There 
was  tenderness  in  the  tones  of  his  voice  when  speak- 
ing with  his  wife. 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSIVORTH  4 1 

"  Peace  settles  where  the  intellect  is  meek,"  is  a 
familiar  line  from  one  of  the  beautiful  poems  which 
Wordsworth  addressed  to  her,  and  this  seemed  pecu- 
liarly the  temper  of  her  spirit  —  peace  —  the  holy 
calmness  of  a  heart  to  which  Love  had  been  "  an  un- 
erring light." 

I  cannot  forbear  to  quote  here  that  beautiful  pas- 
sage near  the  end  of  "  The  Prelude,"  in  which  he 
speaks  for  the  first  time  of  his  wife.  After  apostro- 
phizing his  sister,  "  Child  of  my  parents ;  Sister  of  my 
soul,"  and  dwelling  on  what  she  had  been  to  him  from 
his  boyhood  up,  he  adds :  — 

"  Thereafter  came 
One  whom  with  thee  friendship  had  early  paired ; 
She  came,  no  more  a  phantom  to  adorn 
A  moment,  but  an  inmate  of  the  heart, 
And  yet  a  spirit,  there  for  me  enshrined 
To  penetrate  the  lofty  and  the  low ; 
Even  as  one  essence  of  per\'ading  hght 
Shines,  in  the  brightest  of  ten  thousand  stars 
And  the  meek  worm  that  feeds  her  lonely  lamp 
Couched  in  the  dewy  grass." 

I  have  been  led  away  from  my  narrative,  but  I 
wished  to  note  how  much  I  felt  drawn  to  Mrs.  Words- 
worth, as  I  saw  her  thus  for  the  first  time.  She  was 
then  in  her  eightieth  year.  Little  could  I  foresee  that 
again,  and  yet  again,  I  was  to  be  under  her  roof,  and 
partake  of  her  gracious  hospitality.  As  the  years 
went  on,  and  I  knew  her  better,  I  could  feel  how  true 
the  words  were  that  she  had  been  "  like  the  Poet's 
Guardian  Angel  for  near  fifty  years." 


42  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

After  an  hour  or  two  had  passed  I  rose  to  go. 
Wordsworth,  without  rising  himself,  begged  me  to  sit 
down  again :  they  had  no  engagements  ;  at  this  sea- 
son they  gave  themselves  up  to  visitors.  For  eight 
months  of  the  year  they  saw  only  their  immediate 
neighbours.  "  Pray  sit  down  again,  if  you  like."  I 
could  not  resist  this.  Mrs.  Wordsworth  added  they 
had  visitors  constantly,  and  from  various  quarters  — 
more  Americans  by  far  than  all  other  foreigners  put 
together. 

I  ventured  to  remark  to  Wordsworth  that  I  had 
observed  from  a  note,  in  the  last-published  volume 
of  his  poems,  that  he  looked  with  favour  on  what 
is  known  as  the  Oxford  movement  in  the  English 
Church,  the  results  of  which  were  everywhere  visi- 
ble. I  asked  him  whether  late  events  had  led  him 
to  alter  his  judgment.  He  replied  deliberately  that 
his  opinion  was  unchanged.  "  I  foresaw,"  said  he, 
"  that  the  movement  was  for  good,  and  such  I  con- 
ceive it  has  been  beyond  all  question."  Continuing 
to  speak  of  the  English  Church,  he  said  there  ought 
to  be  an  increase  in  the  number  of  Bishops,  —  they 
ought  to  be  five  times  as  many ;  the  duties  in  Par- 
liament of  the  present  bench  were  important,  and 
took  up  much  of  their  time.  The  clergy  having 
no  representatives  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the 
presence  of  the  Bishops  in  the  House  of  Lords  was 
the  more  necessary. 

It  is  of  course  impossible  to  give  the  whole  of 
what  was  said,  or  to   do  justice  to  the  conversation 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  43 

b}'  what  I  am  able  to  recall  of  it.  I  may  note  that 
Wordsworth's  manner  throughout  was  animated,  and 
that  his  words  were  felicitous  to  such  degree  as  to 
enchain  attention.  There  was  sustained  vigour,  and 
a  mode  of  expression  denoting  habitual  thought- 
fulness. 

I  rose  a  second  time  to  go.  Wordsworth  told  me 
I  was  to  say  to  his  friends  in  America  that  he  and 
his  wife  were  well,  that  they  had  had  a  great  grief 
of  late  in  the  loss  of  their  only  daughter.  He 
added,  "  I  suppose  we  shall  never  get  over  it." 
Two  years  had  then  passed  since  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Quillinan.  I  recalled  that  the  poet  had  himself 
condemned  "  long  and  persevering  grief "  for  "  ob- 
jects of  our  love  removed  from  this  unstable  world," 
reminding  one  so  sorrowing  of  that  state :  — 

"  Of  pure,  imperishable  blessedness 
Which  reason  promises,  and  Holy  Writ 
Ensures  to  all  believers." 

But,  as  if  foreseeing  his  own  case,  he  has  added  in 
words  of  touching  power :  — 

"  And  if  there  be  whose  tender  frames  have  drooped 
Even  to  the  dust,  apparently,  through  weight 
Of  anguish  unrelieved,  and  lack  of  power 
An  agonizing  sorrow  to  transmute, 
Deem  not  that  proof  is  here  of  hope  withheld 
When  wanted  most :  a  confidence  impaired 
So  pitiably  that,  having  ceased  to  see 
With  bodily  eyes,  they  are  borne  down  by  love 
Of  what  is  lost,  and  perish  through  regret." 


44  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

I  could  see  most  clearly  that  it  was  the  weakness 
of  his  bodily  frame  which  took  away  his  power  of 
tranquil  endurance.  Bowed  down  by  the  weight  of 
years,  he  had  not  strength  to  bear  this  further  bur- 
den,—  grief  for  the  child  who  had  always  been  the 
object  of  his  tenderest  love ;  the  one,  too,  who  had 
been,  more  than  either  of  his  other  children,  the 
companion  of  his  mind. 

I  turned  to  take  leave  of  his  granddaughter,  who 
had  remained  in  the  room.  He  said  in  his  simple 
way,  "  That  is  the  child  of  our  eldest  son."  I  men- 
tion this  because  his  manner  in  tellins:  me  was 
kind  and  gentle;  there  seemed  affection  in  the  tones 
of  his  voice.  He  walked  out  into  the  entry  with 
me,  and  then  asked  me  to  go  again  into  the  dining 
room  to  look  at  an  old  oak  cabinet  richly  and 
curiously  carved.  It  bore  a  Latin  inscription  stating 
that  it  was  made  three  hundred  years  ago  for  Will- 
iam Wordsworth,  "  who  was  the  son  of,"  etc.,  giving 
the  ancestors  of  the  said  William  for  many  genera- 
tions, and  ending,  "  On  whose  souls  may  God  have 
mercy."  This  Wordsworth  repeated  twice  in  an 
emphatic  way,  as  if  taking  comfort  in  the  religious 
spirit  of  his  ancestor  while  adopting  for  himself  the 
solemn  ejaculation. 

I  asked  to  see  the  cast  from  Chantrey's  bust  of 
him,  which  he  at  once  showed  me ;  also  a  crayon 
sketch  by  Haydon,  and  one  by  Margaret  Gillies. 

We  went  out  together  upon  the  lawn  and  stood 
for  a  while  to  enjoy  the  views ;   Wordsworth   pulled 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  45 

aside  the  shrubbery  or  hedge  in  places,  that  I  might 
see  to  better  advantage.  He  accompanied  me  to 
the  gate,  and  then  said,  if  I  had  a  few  minutes 
longer  to  spare,  he  would  like  to  show  me  the 
waterfall  which  was  close  by,  —  the  lower  fall  of 
Rydal.  I  gladly  assented,  and  he  led  the  way 
across  the  grounds  of  Lady  Fleming  —  which  were 
opposite  to  his  own  —  to  a  small  summer  house. 
The  moment  we  opened  the  door,  the  waterfall  was 
before  us,  the  summer  house  being  so  placed  as  to 
occupy  the  exact  spot  from  which  it  was  to  be  seen, 
the  rocks  and  shrubbery  around  closing  it  in  on 
every  side.  The  effect  was  magical.  The  view  from 
the  rustic  house,  the  rocky  basin  into  which  the 
water  fell,  and  the  deep  shade  in  which  the  whole 
was  enveloped  made  it  a  lovely  scene.  Wordsworth 
seemed  to  have  much  pleasure  in  exhibiting  this 
beautiful  retreat ;  it  is  described  in  one  of  his 
earlier  poems,  "  The  Evening  Walk." 

As  we  returned  he  walked  very  slowly,  occasion- 
ally stopping  when  he  said  anything  of  importance ; 
and  again  I  noticed  that  looking  into  remote  space 
of  which  I  have  already  spoken.  His  eyes,  though 
not  glistening,  had  yet  in  them  the  fire  which  be- 
tokened the  greatness  of  his  genius.  This  no  painter 
could  represent,  and  this  it  was  that  gave  his  counte- 
nance its  high  intellectual  expression.  His  features 
were  not  good ;  indeed  but  for  this  keen  grey  eye  with 
its  wondrous  light  his  face  could  hardly  have  been 
called  pleasing;   but  this  atoned  for  all.     His  step  I 


46  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

have  already  said  was  feeble,  tottering ;  there  was,  too, 
this  peculiarity  that  he  walked  with  so  uneven  a  gait 
as  to  encroach  on  my  side  of  the  path.  One  hand 
was  generally  thrust  into  his  half-unbuttoned  waist- 
coat. His  dress  was  a  black  frock  coat,  grey  trousers, 
a  black  waistcoat,  and  cravat  of  black  silk  carelessly 
tied ;  his  appearance,  in  fact,  was  somewhat  rough, 
but  not  slovenly;  his  clothes  were  not  old  fashioned, 
nor  did  he  dress  as  an  old  man  in  any  peculiar  way. 

The  few  minutes  I  was  to  devote  to  the  Falls  be- 
came a  walk  and  further  talk  of  three-quarters  of 
an  hour.  One  of  the  questions  Wordsworth  asked 
me  at  this  time  was,  "  What  age  do  men  reach  in 
America  ? "  He  wished  to  know  whether  the  aver- 
age of  life  was  longer  with  us  than  in  England.  He 
spoke  of  Mr.  Everett,  whom  he  had  seen  and  of  whom 
he  thought  highly.  Webster  he  had  also  met ;  his 
dark  complexion  and  his  eye  gave  him  somehow  the 
look  of  our  North  American  Indians. 

I  mentioned  Henry  Taylor's  name  to  him.  He 
said  he  knew  him  well,  that  he  was  a  very  estimable 
man,  and  of  remarkable  abilities.  He  added  that  he 
was  without  the  advantage  of  a  classical  education, 
and  this  Wordsworth  considered  a  great  loss.  He 
had  acted  lately  with  much  propriety  and  forbearance 
in  declining  promotion  which  was  offered  him  in  the 
Colonial  Office  where  he  had  long  been  engaged ;  he 
was  content  with  the  lower  station,  although  his  sal- 
ary would  have  been  almost  doubled  had  he  accepted 
the  higher.     With  the  former  he  had  more  leisure  for 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  47 

literary  work  and  for  his  family ;  this,  in  short,  was 
more  to  him  than  money. 

Of  Hartley  Coleridge  he  spoke  with  much  affection  : 
he  was  beloved  by  all  who  knew  him,  notwithstanding 
his  wayward  and  careless  life.  "  There  is  a  single 
line,"  he  added,  "  in  one  of  his  father's  poems  which 
I  consider  explains  the  after-life  of  the  son.  He  is 
speaking  of  his  own  confinement  in  London,  and  then 
says:  — 

" '  But  thou,  my  child,  shalt  wander  like  a  breeze.'  " 

Of  Southey  he  said  that  he  had  had  the  misfortune 
to  outlive  his  faculties ;  his  mind,  he  thought,  had 
been  weakened  by  long  watching  by  the  sick  bed  of 
his  wife,  who  had  lingered  for  many  years  in  a  very 
distressing  state. 

The  last  subject  he  touched  on  was  the  interna- 
tional copyright  question  —  the  absence  of  protection 
in  our  country  to  the  works  of  foreign  authors.  He 
said  mildly  that  he  thought  it  would  be  better  for  us 
if  some  acknowledgment,  however  small,  was  made. 
The  fame  of  his  own  writings,  as  far  as  pecuniary 
advantage  was  concerned,  he  had  long  regarded  with 
indifference ;  happily  he  had  now  an  income  more 
than  sufificient  for  all  his  wants. 

I  happened  to  have  in  my  pocket  a  small  volume 
of  selections  from  his  poems  made  some  years  before 
by  Professor  Reed.  I  produced  it  and  asked  him  if 
he  had  ever  seen  it.  He  replied  he  had  not.  He 
took  it  with  evident  interest,  turned  to  the  title-page. 


48  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

which  he  read,  with  its  motto.  He  began  the  preface 
then,  in  the  same  way.  But  here  I  must  record  a 
trifling  incident,  which  may  yet  be  worth  noting. 
We  were  standing  together  in  the  road  when  a  man 
accosted  us,  asking  charity,  —  a  beggar  of  the  better 
class.  Wordsworth,  scarcely  looking  off  the  book, 
thrust  his  hand  into  his  pockets,  as  if  instinctively 
acknowledging  the  man's  right  to  beg  by  this  prompt 
action.  He  seemed  to  find  nothing,  however ;  and  he 
said,  in  a  sort  of  soliloquy,  "  I  have  given  to  four  or 
five  already  to-day,"  as  if  to  account  for  his  being  then 
unprovided.  Wordsworth,  as  he  turned  over  one  leaf 
after  another,  said,  "  But  I  shall  weary  you."  "  By  no 
means,"  said  I ;  for  I  could  have  been  content  to 
stand  there  for  hours  to  hear,  as  I  did,  the  Poet 
read  from  time  to  time,  with  fitting  emphasis,  the 
choice  passages  which  Professor  Reed  had  quoted 
in  the  preface,  and  the  biographical  sketch  which 
followed.  Most  impressive  was  it  to  hear  from  the 
lips  of  the  venerable  man  such  words  as  these :  "  His 
has  been  a  life  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  the  poet's 
art  for  its  best  and  most  lasting  uses,  a  self-dedication 
as  complete  as  the  world  has  ever  witnessed."  A 
further  remark,  that  he  had  "  outlived  many  of  his 
contemporaries  among  the  poets,"  he  read  with  affect- 
ing simplicity,  his  manner  being  that  of  one  who 
looked  backward  to  the  past  with  tranquillity,  and 
forward  with  sure  hope.  It  was  clear  that  he  felt  that 
his  life  was  drawing  rapidly  to  a  close. 

He  made  but  little  comment  on   Professor  Reed's 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  49 

notice  of  him.  Occasionally  he  would  say,  as  he 
came  to  a  particular  fact,  "  That  s  quite  correct,"  or 
after  reading  a  quotation  from  his  own  works,  he 
would  add,  "  That's  from  my  writings."  These  quota- 
tions he  read  in  a  way  that  much  impressed  me ;  it 
seemed  almost  as  if  he  was  awed  by  the  greatness 
of  his  own  power,  the  gifts  with  which  he  had  been 
endowed.^  It  was  a  solemn  time  to  me,  this  part  of 
my  interview ;  and  I  felt  it  to  be  indeed  a  crowning 
happiness  to  stand,  as  I  did,  by  his  side  on  that  bright 
summer  day,  and  listen  to  his  voice.  I  thought  of 
his  long  life ;  that  he  was  one  who  had  felt  himself 
from  early  youth  a  dedicated  spirit,  — 

"  singled  out 
For  holy  semces,"  — 

one  who  had  listened  to  the  teachings  of  Nature,  and 
communed  with  his  own  heart  in  the  seclusion  of 
these  beautiful  vales  and  mountains  until  his  thoughts 
were  ready  to  be  uttered  for  the  good  of  his  fellow- 
men.  And  there  had  come  back  to  him  in  all  the 
later  years  of  his  life  offerings  of  love  and  gratitude 
and  admiration  from  perhaps  as  great  a  multitude 
as  had  ever  before  paid  their  homage  to  a  living 
writer. 

^  Mr.  Lowell  ("  Among  my  Books  ")  does  me  the  honour  to  quote  this 
sentence.  He  says  finely,  to  somewhat  the  same  effect  :  "  The  fact  that 
what  is  precious  in  Wordsworth''s  poetry  was  a  gift  rather  than  an  achieve- 
ment should  always  be  borne  in  mind  in  taking  the  measure  of  his  power," 
and  further,  "Wordsworth's  better  utterances  have  the  bare  sincerity, 
the  absolute  abstraction  from  time  and  place,  the  immunity  from  decay, 
that  belong  to  the  grand  simplicities  of  the  Bible.  They  seem  not  more 
his  own  than  ours  and  every  man's,  the  word  of  the  unalterable  mind." 


50  WORDSWORTH  AMD   THE  COLERIDGES 

Still  holding  the  little  book  in  his  hand,  he  said,  "  I 
will  write  my  name  in  it  if  you  like."  I  produced  my 
pencil  gladly,  and  he  wrote  with  a  trembling  hand : 
"WilHam  Wordsworth,  Rydal,  August  iSth,  1849." 
"  You  can  mend  it,"  he  said.  I  am  glad  to  note  this 
little  act  of  kindness. 

He  walked  with  me  as  far  as  the  main  road  to 
Ambleside.  As  we  passed  the  little  church  built  by 
Lady  Fleming,  there  were  persons,  tourists  evidently, 
talking  with  the  sexton  at  the  door.  Their  inquiries, 
I  fancied,  were  about  Wordsworth,  perhaps  as  to  the 
hour  of  service  the  next  day  (Sunday),  with  the  hope 
of  seeing  him  there.  One  of  them  caught  sight  of 
the  venerable  man  at  the  moment,  and  at  once  seemed 
to  perceive  who  it  was,  for  she  motioned  to  the  others 
to  look,  and  they  watched  him  with  earnest  gaze.  He 
stopped  when  we  reached  the  main  road,  saying  his 
strength  was  not  sufficient  for  a  further  walk.  Giving 
me  his  hand,  he  desired  again  to  be  remembered  to 
his  friends  in  America,  and  wished  me  a  safe  return 
to  my  own  home,  and  so  we  parted.  I  went  on  my 
way  happy  in  the  recollection  of  this  to  me  memora- 
ble interview.  My  mind  was  in  a  tumult  of  excite- 
ment, for  I  felt  that  I  had  been  in  the  familiar  pres- 
ence of  one  of  the  noblest  of  our  race.  The  sense  of 
Wordsworth's  intellectual  greatness  had  been  with  me 
during  the  whole  interview.  I  may  speak,  too,  of  the 
strong  perception  of  his  moral  elevation  which  I  had 
at  the  same  time.  He  seemed  to  me  a  man  living  as 
in  the  presence  of  God  by  habitual  recollection.     A 


A    VISIT  TO    WORDSWORTH  $1 

strange  feeling  almost  of  awe  had  impressed  me  while 
I  was  thus  with  him. 

Believing  as    I    do  that    his  memoiy  will    be    had 
in  honour  in  all  coming  time,  I  am  indeed  thankful 
that    I  was    permitted    to    have  the  intercourse  with 
him  of  which    I    have  now  sought   to   tell.     I    owed 
this   great    happiness    to    my   dear   friend,    Professor 
Henry  Reed.     I  was  in  a  manner  his  representative 
as  I    drew  near  to  the  great  and  gracious  presence. 
The    kindness  with  which    I   was    received  was    the 
acknowledgment    which    the    poet    was    prompt    to 
make  of   a   devotion  as   absolute   and    unwearied    as 
any  of  which  literary  history  affords  us  an  example. 
Professor    Reed   was,    during   all    his   mature   years, 
the  instant  and  unwearied  upholder  of  Wordsworth's 
poetry.     He  had  the  profoundest  sense  of  its  value, 
and    he  accepted   almost   as  a   divine  call    the    duty 
of   bringing  its  holy  and   elevating  influences  home 
to  the  hearts  of   his  countrymen.     Wordsworth  was 
quick    to    discern   that   here  across   the  sea  was  one 
whose    heart   and    mind   were    kindred    to   his    own. 
The   letters   to    Professor    Reed   which    Dr.   Words- 
worth's   "  Memoirs "    contain   would    seem    to    have 
been    the    most   important    that    Wordsworth    wrote. 
Alas!    that  it  was  not  granted    to    this   true-hearted 
man    to    see    face    to    face    the   great    poet    toward 
whom  he  felt  such  utter  loyalty  of  heart. 


WALKS   AND  VISITS   IN   WORDS- 
WORTH'S  COUNTRY 


WALKS   AND   VISITS    IN   WORDS- 
WORTH'S  COUNTRY 

August  II,  1855. —  In  company  with  my  friend, 
the  Rev.  Derwent  Coleridge,  I  called  to-day  at  Rydal 
Mount.  I  had  great  interest  in  entering  again  the 
grounds  and  the  house  which  six  years  ago  I  visited 
with  such  eager  expectation.  Everything  remains 
as  it  was  in  the  poet's  lifetime  —  the  books  and  the 
pictures  and  the  furniture.  Wordsworth's  chair 
stands  in  its  accustomed  place  by  the  drawing-room 
fireside.  Mrs.  Wordsworth  seems  also  unchanged. 
Her  manners  are  simple  and  unpretending,  but  she 
received  me  very  cordially.  As  was  natural,  almost 
the  first  inquiries  were  after  Mrs.  Henry  Reed  and 
her  children.  She  spoke  with  much  feeling  of  Pro- 
fessor Reed  and  Miss  Bronson,  who  scarcely  a  year 
ago  perished  in  the  Arctic.  They  left  Rydal  Mount 
for  Liverpool  to  embark,  and  it  was  little  more  than 
a  week  after  their  parting  from  this  dear  venerable 
lady  that  the  waves  closed  over  them.  Mrs.  Words- 
worth is  almost  eighty-five,  and  is  as  clear  in  mind 
as  ever.  You  forget  her  great  age  in  talking  with 
her.  And  what  tenderness  there  is  in  the  tones 
of    her   voice,    and   what   truthful   simplicity   in    her 

55 


56  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

words !  We  did  not  remain  very  long.  I  accepted 
her  invitation  to  drink  tea  the  next  evening  in  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Coleridge.  As  we  drove  away,  we 
passed  the  spot  where  Wordsworth  gave  me  his 
hand  in  parting  six  years  ago,  and  but  six  months 
before  his  death.  Later  in  the  day,  Mr.  Coleridge 
and  I  took  a  walk  along  the  Brathay  to  Skelwith 
Force  and  back,  a  round  of  six  miles.  The  valley 
through  which  we  went  was  familiar  ground  to  Mr. 
Coleridge,  he  and  his  brother  Hartley,  — "  My  poor 
brother  Hartley ! "  as  Mr.  Coleridge  says  when  he 
speaks  of  him,  —  having  spent  five  or  six  years 
there  in  their  schoolboy  days.  We  went  to  the 
cottage  where  they  had  lived,  and  the  well-remem- 
bered rooms  brought  up  to  my  friend  a  crowd  of 
recollections  of  forty  years  ago.  He  talked  much 
of  those  early  days  as  we  walked  together  along 
that  sweet  valley.  We  reached  the  Force,  which 
is  a  pretty  waterfall,  and  returned  on  the  other  side 
of  the  valley.  It  rained  occasionally,  but  one  gets 
used  to  this  in  England. 

Atigust  12,  Sunday. —  I  went  to  the  new  Amble- 
side church  this  morning.  It  is  one  of  Gilbert 
Scott's  works,  but  not  altogether  pleasing.  I  sat 
with  Dr.  John  Davy,  brother  of  Sir  Humphry.  We 
were  close  to  the  memorial  window  for  which  Dr. 
Davy  had  applied,  through  Professor  Reed,  for 
American  contributions.  When  the  service  was 
over,  I  remained  to  study  this  window.  Its  appro- 
priate inscription  is:  — 


ir ALA'S  IN  WORDSWORTH'S   COUNTRY  57 

"  Gulielmi  Wordsworth  Amatores  et  Amici, 
partim  Angli,  partim  Anglo-Araericani." 

Other  smaller  windows  are  near  by,  commemorating 
members  of  the  Wordsworth  family,  so  that  the  cor- 
ner becomes  a  Wordsworth  chapel.  One  window  re- 
mains without  inscription. 

At  two  o'clock  I  started  for  my  walk  to  Grasmere, 
five  miles  distant,  where  I  had  agreed  to  meet  Mr. 
Coleridge.  My  way  at  first  was  along  the  Rothay  by 
the  lovely  road  at  the  base  of  Loughrigg,  which 
mountain  seems  to  embrace  as  with  an  encirclino-  arm 
one  side  of  the  Ambleside  valley.  There  was  deep 
shade  here  and  there,  and  for  a  part  of  the  way  there 
was  the  shadow  of  the  mountain  itself.  I  passed  Fox 
How,  where  there  are  only  servants  at  present. 
Other  pretty  houses,  with  lovely  shade  about  them,  I 
also  passed,  and  the  sweep  of  the  road  gave  me  a  per- 
petually changing  view.  Then  I  crossed  a  bridge, 
and  soon  found  myself  in  the  Vale  of  Rydal.  Skirt- 
ing the  small  Rydalmere,  I  next  entered  the  sweet 
Grasmere  Vale.  In  the  distance  was  the  church 
M-hich  was  my  destination,  the  square  tower  being  a 
striking  object  in  the  view.  It  was  a  day  of  wonder- 
ful brightness,  and  the  green  of  the  mountain  sheep- 
pastures  and  the  purple  of  the  slate  rock,  which  is  seen 
here  and  there,  made  a  lovely  contrast  in  the  sunlight. 

The  church,  which  I  reached  at  length,  is  the  one 
commemorated  by  Wordsworth  in  the  "  Excursion  "  :  — 

"  Not  raised  in  nice  proportions  was  the  pile, 
But  large  and  massy,  for  duration  built, 


58  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

With  pillars  crowded,  and  the  roof  upheld 

By  naked  rafters  intricately  crossed, 

Like  leafless  under-boughs  'mid  some  thick  grove." 

The  interior  is  interesting.  The  pavement  is  of  blue 
flagstones  worn  and  uneven.  The  pillars  support  two 
rows  of  low  stone  arches,  one  above  the  other,  and  on 
these  rest  the  beams  and  other  framework,  black  with 
age,  which  uphold  the  roof.  The  pillars  are  square 
and  are  of  separate  stones,  and  all  has  the  look  of  rude 
strength,  the  rough  work  of  very  ancient  days.  The 
congregation  was  large.  Mr.  Coleridge  preached. 
When  the  service  was  over  I  waited  a  while  to  look 
at  the  tablet  to  Wordsworth,  which  is  on  the  wall  di- 
rectly over  the  pew  he  occupied  for  many  years.  The 
inscription  is  a  translation  from  the  Latin  of  the  dedi- 
cation to  him  of  Mr.  Keble's  "  Lectures  on  Poetry," 

and  is  as  follows :  — 

"  To  the  memory  of 

William  ^VoRDS\voRTH, 

A  true  philosopher  and  poet, 

Who  by  the  special  gift  and  calling  of 

Almighty  God, 

Whether  he  discoursed  on  man  or  Nature, 

Failed  not  to  lift  the  heart 

to  holy  things, 

Tired  not  of  maintaining  the  cause 

of  the  poor  and  simple, 

And  so  in  perilous  times  was  raised  up 

to  be  a  chief  minister. 

Not  only  of  noblest  poesy, 

but  of  high  and  sacred  truth." 

Mr.  Coleridge  and  I  now  started  for  the  walk  we  had 
arranged  to  take  together.     It  was  to  be  a  vigorous 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  59 

climb,  and  then  a  descent  and  a  circuit  of  the  vales  of 
Rydal  and  Grasmere ;  and  we  had  two  hours  for  it. 
We  took  a  narrow  road  leading  up  the  mountain  on 
the  west  side  of  Grasmere  Lake :  comina:  down  a 
little,  we  ascended  once  more  to  look  down  on  Rydal 
Water.  The  views  were  very  lovely,  and  the  moun- 
tain-air was  exhilarating.  These  lakes,  with  their 
dark  mountain  settings,  are  like  mirrors  in  their  black 
transparency.  Rydal  Water  is  dotted  with  islands, 
each  with  its  few  trees,  everything  seeming  in  minia- 
ture. We  went  to  a  house  which  is  the  highest  human 
habitation  in  England,  save  one  on  the  top  of  Kirk- 
stone  Pass.  The  people  occupying  it  knew  Mr. 
Coleridge  well:  they  showed  me,  at  his  request,  the 
kitchen  with  its  pavement  of  flagstones,  and  the  open- 
ing between  the  rafters  which  served  for  the  chimney 
—  a  curious  specimen  of  Westmoreland  cottage-life. 

We  reached  at  length  Rydal  Mount,  which  was 
our  destination,  and  found  there  Miss  Edith  Cole- 
ridge, daughter  of  Sara  Coleridge;  William  Words- 
worth, a  grandson  of  the  poet;  and  Mr.  Carter, 
Wordsworth's  secretary  for  forty  years.  Young 
Wordsworth  has  his  grandfather's  face:  he  seems 
thoughtful,  and,  though  silent,  his  manner  is  prepos- 
sessing. He  is  about  twenty  years  of  age,  and  is 
an  undergraduate  of  Balliol  College,  Oxford. 

Mr.  Coleridge  left  us  soon  after  tea,  having  to  re- 
turn to  Grasmere.  I  walked  out  on  the  terrace  with 
Mr.  Carter,  and  enjoyed  the  fine  view  it  commands 
of  the  valley  of  the  Rothay,  with  Lake  Windermere 


6o  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

in  the  distance.  It  is  a  double  terrace,  with  flower- 
beds interspersed,  rich  in  bloom  and  fragrance.  On 
either  hand  there  is  shrubbery  of  luxuriant  growth, 
and  one  wall  of  the  house  is  ivy-grown.  All  speaks 
of  lovinsf  and  tender  care.  Much  of  the  work  of 
raising  the  terraces  was  done,  I  believe,  by  Words- 
worth's own  hands.  There  are  seats  here  and  there 
on  which  one  would  be  tempted  to  spend  many  an 
hour  watching  the  changing  lights  on  the  distant 
hillsides  and  the  fair  valleys.  Mr.  Carter  pointed 
out  to  me  the  valley  down  which  "the  Wanderer" 
and  his  party  came  to  the  "churchyard  among  the 
mountains  "  (the  Grasmere  church).  He  showed  me 
also  the  stone  with  its  inscription  — 

"  In  these  fair  vales  hath  many  a  tree 

At  Wordsworth's  suit  been  spared, 
And  from  the  builder's  hand  this  stone, 
For  some  rude  beauty  of  its  own, 

Was  rescued  by  the  bard  : 
So  let  it  rest,  and  time  will  come 

When  here  the  tender-hearted 
May  heave  a  gentle  sigh  for  him 

As  one  of  the  departed." 

Mr.  Carter  was  most  helpful  to  the  poet  during 
the  long  years  of  his  association  with  him.  One 
could  fancy  that  he  appreciated  from  the  first  the 
dignity  of  the  service  he  was  thus  rendering.  Mrs. 
Wordsworth  has  only  a  lease  of  Rydal  Mount:  at 
her  death  it  must  pass  to  strangers,  for  neither  of 
her  sons  will  be  able  to  live  there.     I  have  omitted 


WALKS  IN-  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  6 1 

to  say  that  she  is  rapidly  losing  her  sight,  but   she 
has  scarcely  any  other  infirmity  of  age. 

August  13.  —  Early  this  morning  I  started  for  an 
excursion  which  had  been  planned  for  me  by  Mr. 
Coleridge.  I  went  by  coach  from  Ambleside,  ascend- 
ing the  Kirkstone  Pass.  I  was  outside,  and  could 
enjoy  at  first,  as  I  looked  back,  the  sweet  morning 
view  of  Lake  Windermere  with  its  islands  and  its 
fair  green  hillsides.  But  soon  the  sharp  ascent  of 
the  road  brought  us  between  steep  mountain-declivi- 
ties, shutting  out  all  view  except  their  desolate  grey 
slopes.  There  were  but  scanty  patches  of  grass  here 
and  there :  all  else  was  stony  and  barren.  I  walked 
in  advance  of  the  coach,  enjoying  the  silence  and  the 
solitude,  and  the  grand  slopes  of  the  naked  moun- 
tains on  either  hand.  Up  and  up  we  went,  until  at 
last  the  summit  of  the  pass  is  reached.  There  stands 
the  old  stone  house  said  to  be  the  highest  inhabited 
house  in  England  —  a  rude  enough  dwelling,  and  at 
present  an  alehouse.  Beginning  now  our  descent 
toward  Patterdale,  we  had  from  the  summit  of  the 
pass  a  view  of  the  little  lake  of  Brotherswater,  and 
soon  our  road  was  along  the  margin  of  this  fair  high- 
lying  tarn.  The  mountains  stand  quite  around  the 
lake,  leaving  only  space  for  the  road.  From  the  foot 
of  the  pass  a  drive  of  a  few  miles  brought  us  to 
Patterdale,  and  there  my  coach-journey  ended.  I 
climbed  to  a  stone-quarry  on  the  hillside  opposite, 
and  thence  had  a  view  of  the  valle}^  through  which 
I    had   just   passed,    and    of    the    lake    of    Ullswater 


62  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

stretching  off  to  the  right.  Returning  to  the  inn  at 
Patterdale,  I  engaged  a  boat  to  take  me  to  Lyulph's 
Tower,  distant  five  or  six  miles.  A  young  man  with 
drawing-materials  and  pack  slung  over  his  shoulder 
was  about  to  leave  the  inn.  I  asked  him  to  take  a 
seat  with  me,  and  we  were  soon  side  by  side  in  the 
open  boat  on  the  beautiful  lake.  From  the  level  of 
the  water  the  mountains  rising  on  either  hand  ap- 
peared in  their  full  dignity.  The  lake  is  quite  shut 
in  by  these  steep  and  lofty  hills.  For  a  while  the 
clouds  were  threatening,  but  we  dreaded  wind  more 
than  rain,  for  these  lakes  are  often  lashed  by  sudden 
storms.  We  landed  and  climbed  to  Lyulph's  Tower, 
and  there  below,  in  its  fair  loveliness,  lay  the  sweet 
Ullswater,  this  upper  reach  of  it  being  of  quite  won- 
derful beauty.  Thence  we  made  our  way  to  Aira 
Force,  a  mile  distant  —  a  dashing  waterfall  in  a  nar- 
row gorge.  Its  height  is  about  eighty  feet.  The 
"  woody  glen  "  and  the  "  torrent  hoarse,"  as  Words- 
worth describes  it,  are  appropriate  words. 

A  mile  farther  we  found  a  road  and  a  little  inn. 
We  asked  for  luncheon,  but  in  the  principal  room, 
to  which  we  were  shown,  two  travelling  tailors  were 
at  work.  It  seemed  pleasanter  to  be  in  the  open 
air,  so  we  had  our  table  under  the  trees  outside. 
My  companion  proved  to  be  a  clergyman:  he  was 
fresh  from  Oxford,  and  had  just  taken  orders.  We 
had  fallen  at  once  into  intimacy,  but  we  had  imme- 
diately to  part  company.  My  way  was  onward  to 
Keswick,  a  walk  of  eleven  miles.     I  ascended  first  a 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  6^ 

long  hill,  and  then  my  route  wound  along  or  around 
the  side  of  a  mountain.  Above  and  below  me  was 
bare  heath  or  mountain-moor :  there  were  no  trees 
whatever.  For  near  two  hours  I  saw  no  house  or 
sign  of  cultivation,  nor  did  I  meet  a  human  being. 
The  wind  blew  strongly  in  my  face,  but  my  blood 
coursed  through  all  my  veins,  and  I  had  ever  before 
me  a  wide  sweeping  view.  I  descended  at  length 
into  the  fair  valley  through  which  the  Greta  flows, 
and  about  two  hours  more  of  steady  walking  brought 
me  to  Keswick.  My  stopping-place,  however,  was  at 
the  inn  at  Portinscale  on  the  banks  of  Derwent- 
water,  a  mile  out  of  Keswick,  where  I  had  agreed 
to  meet  Mr.  Coleridge.  I  dined,  and  was  resting 
after  my  long  walk,  when  I  heard  his  voice  in  the 
hall  inquiring  for  me.  With  him  w^re  three  other 
gentlemen,  one  of  them  the  friend  with  whom  he 
was  staying,  who  asked  me  to  return  with  them  and 
drink  tea  at  his  house.  One  of  the  four  was  Dr. 
Carlyle,  a  brother  of  the  Chelsea  philosopher,  him- 
self a  man  of  letters,  the  prose  translator  of  Dante. 
I  soon  found  myself  in  a  pretty  drawing-room  look- 
ing out  on  Derwentwater.  Mr.  Leitch  was  our  host. 
We  had  a  great  deal  of  animated  talk  at  the  tea- 
table,  and  later  in  the  long  twilight  Mr.  Coleridge 
read  to  us  the  "  Ancient  Mariner  "  and  "  Genevieve," 
his  father's  matchless  poems.  He  reads  extremely 
well.  We  sat  by  one  of  the  large  windows,  and  the 
lake  stretching  before  us  and  the  mountains  beyond 
seemed  to  put  one  in  the  mood  for  the  poetry. 


64  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Atigust  14. —  I  went  to  Mr.  Leitch's  to  breakfast 
this  morning,  meeting  nearly  the  same  party,  and  had 
another  hour  of  pleasant  talk.  Then  Dr.  Carlyle, 
Mr.  Coleridge,  Mr.  Leitch,  and  I  rowed  across  the 
lake.  Landing  near  the  town,  Mr.  Coleridge  and  I 
took  leave  of  the  others  and  went  up  into  Keswick, 
and  so  out  to  Greta  Hall,  the  former  residence  of 
Southey,  now  occupied  by  strangers.  It  has  a  lovely 
situation  on  a  knoll,  Skiddaw  looking  down  upon  it, 
and  other  mountains  standing  around  and  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  Greta  flowing,  or  rather  winding,  by ; 
for  it  is  a  stream  which  has  many  twists  and  turnings. 
We  called  at  the  house,  and  Mr.  Coleridge  sent  in  his 
name,  telling  the  servant  he  had  a  friend  with  him, 
an  American,  to  whom  he  would  like  to  show  some  of 
the  rooms,  adding,  "  I  was  born  here."  There  was  a 
little  delay,  for  the  occupant  of  the  house  was  a  bach- 
elor and  his  hours  were  late.  So  we  looked  first  at 
the  grounds,  and  my  friend,  as  we  walked  slowly 
alone  under  the  trees  and  looked  down  on  the  Greta, 
seemed  to  be  carried  altogether  back  to  his  childhood. 
On  that  spot  it  was  that  his  brother  Hartley  used  to 
tell  to  him  and  to  their  sister  Sara,  as  well  as  to 
Southey's  children,  stories  literally  without  end  —  one 
narration  in  particular  in  its  ceaseless  flow  going  on 
year  after  year.  "  Here,  too,"  said  my  friend,  pointing 
to  a  small  house  near  by,  "  was  the  residence  of  the 
Bhow  Begum."  Need  I  add  that  this  reference  was 
to  that  strange  book,  "The  Doctor".'^ 

We  were  now  summoned  to  the  house,  and  though 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUXTRY  65 

we  saw  no  one  except  the  civil  housekeeper  who  ac- 
companied us,  all  was  thrown  open  to  us.  My  friend 
at  every  room  had  some  explanation  to  make  :  "  This 
was  the  dining-room;"  "here  was  Mr.  Southey's  seat;" 
"  here  sat  my  mother."  One  room  was  called  Paul, 
for  some  one  had  said  its  furniture  was  taken  wrongly 
from  another  room  —  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul.  Up- 
stairs was  the  library,  the  room  of  all  others  sacred, 
for  there  had  passed  so  much  of  the  thirty  years  of 
Southey's  life  of  unwearied  labour.  The  very  walls 
seemed  to  speak  of  that  honourable  industry.  I  looked 
from  the  windows  on  those  glories  of  lake  and  moun- 
tain which  had  been  the  poet's  solace  and  delight,  and 
recalled  his  own  description  of  the  view  in  "  The  Vis- 
ion of  Judgment  "  :  — 

"Mountain  and  lake  and  vale  ;  the  hills  that  calm  and  majestic 
Lifted  their  heads  in  the  silent  sky." 

Near  the  library  was  the  room  in  which  he  died  after 
years  of  mental  darkness.  In  the  same  room  Mrs. 
Southey  had  been  released  from  life  after  a  still  longer 
period  of  mental  decay. 

Leaving  Greta  Hall  with  all  its  interesting  associ- 
ations, we  returned  to  the  road.  Near  the  gateway 
were  some  cottages.  "  An  old  fiddler  used  to  live 
here,"  said  Mr.  Coleridge.  Then  inquiring  of  some 
men  at  work  near  by,  he  learned  to  his  surprise  that 
he  was  still  there.  "  But  it  is  more  than  forty  years 
since  I  knew  him :  he  used  to  teach  me  to  play  on  the 
violin."     "  He  is  still  there,"  the  men   repeated ;  and 


66  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

we  entered  the  cottage.  An  old  man  rose  from  his 
seat  near  the  fire  as  Mr.  Coleridge  asked  for  him  by 
name.  "  Do  you  remember  me }  "  said  my  friend. 
"  You  gave  me  lessons  on  the  violin  more  than  forty 
years  ago,  until  my  uncle  Southey  interfered  and  said 
I  should  play  no  longer :  he  feared  it  would  make  me 
idle."  "  I  remember  you  perfectly,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  You  would  have  done  very  well  if  you  had  kept 
on."  Then  followed  mutual  inquiries.  The  wife  of 
the  old  man  sat  by  his  side  crippled  with  rheumatism, 
from  which  he  himself  also  suffered.  "  But  she  bears 
it  very  patiently,  sir,"  said  he.  There  seemed  Chris- 
tian submission  in  the  old  people  —  a  tranquil  waiting 
for  the  end. 

Our  next  visit  was  to  Miss  Katherine  Southey,  who 
lives  in  a  beautiful  cottage  close  at  the  foot  of  Skid- 
daw.  Three  little  children,  Robert,  Edith,  and  Bertha 
Southey,  grandchildren  of  the  poet,  came  out  to  meet 
us.  Miss  Southey  greeted  her  cousin  warmly.  She 
is  of  cheerful,  agreeable  manners.  We  talked  of  Greta 
Hall,  and  the  cousins  called  up  their  old  recollections. 
Mr.  Coleridge  went  upstairs  to  see  the  aged  Mrs. 
Lovell,  his  aunt,  the  last  of  her  generation,  so  to  say 
—  sister  of  Mrs.  Coleridge  and  Mrs.  Southey.  It 
was  one  of  Southey's  good  deeds  that  he  cared  for 
this  lady  from  the  beginning  of  her  early  widowhood 
as  long  as  his  own  life  lasted.  She  was,  I  believe, 
one  of  his  household  and  family  for  more  than 
forty  years ;  and  since  his  death  his  children  have 
continued     the    same    dutiful    offices.      (As    I    copy 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUATTRV  67 

these  notes,  now  long  after  the  date  of  my  visit, 
I  may  add  that  Mrs.  Lovell  died  in  1S62,  aged 
ninety-one.) 

Miss  Southey  showed  me  some  of  the  manuscripts 
of  her  father  —  very  minute,  but  exquisitely  neat  and 
clear.     When  the  cousins  took  leave  of  each  other, 
Miss  Southey's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears.     We  now 
took  to  our  boat  again,  and  started  for  the   Falls  of 
Lodore    at    the    other    end    of    Derwentwater.      We 
stopped    at    ^^larshall's    Island,    so    called    from    the 
owner,  who  has  made  it  a  summer  residence  of  mar- 
vellous beauty,  though  the  extent  of  it  is  but  five  acres. 
Trees  of  every  variety  adorn  the  grounds.    The  house 
is  in  the  centre,  of  stately  proportions :  the  drawing- 
room  in  the  second  story  opens  upon  a  balcony  com- 
manding a  view  which  is  beyond  measure  enchanting. 
Books  in  profusion  lay  upon  the  table,  and  pictures 
and  drawings  were  upon  the  walls,  all  telling  of  refine- 
ment as  well  as  of  abundance  of  this  world's  croods. 
Returning  to  our  boat,  my  friend  and  I  took  the  oars. 
Our  next  stopping-place  was  at  St.  Herbert's   Island 
—  a  hermitage  a  thousand  or  more  years  ago.     A  few 
remains  of  what  may  have  been  an  oratory  are  still  to 
be  seen.     St.  Herbert  was  the  friend  of  the  good  St. 
Cuthbert,  whose  especial  shrine  and  memorial  is  Dur- 
ham Cathedral.     Once  a  year,  according  to  Bede,  he 
left  his  cell  to  visit  St.  Cuthbert  and   "receive  from 
him  the  food  of  eternal  life."     And  in  Wordsworth's 
verse  is  embalmed  the  tradition  that,  pacing  on  the 
shore  of  this  small  island,  St.  Herbert  prayed  that  he 


6S  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

and  his  friend  might  die  in  the  same  moment;  "nor 
in  vain  so  prayed  he :  "  — 

"Those  holy  men  both  died  in  the  same  hour." 

At  length  we  reached  Lodore.  Here  our  real  work 
was  to  begin.  We  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  hill  down 
which  the  stream  falls  over  rocks  piled  upon  rocks, 
forming  a  succession  of  cascades.  It  was  a  ladder- 
like ascent  of  no  little  difficulty.  After  admiring  the 
view  of  the  rocky  chasm  and  the  falls,  we  turned  to 
enjoy  the  prospect  which  opened  before  us  from  Lad- 
derbrow,  as  it  is  called.  Derwentwater  lay  stretched 
before  us,  and  Skiddaw  rose  in  its  giant  majesty  in  the 
distance.  The  view  is  a  celebrated  one.  We  then 
entered  the  wood,  crossed  a  beck  or  small  stream, 
losing  our  way  once,  and  at  length  reached  an  upland 
valley  —  Watendlath  —  very  retired  and  secluded,  with 
its  small  hamlet,  and  near  by  a  tarn  —  "A  little  lake, 
and  yet  uplifted  high  among  the  mountains."  The 
day  was  cloudy,  but  there  was  not  much  mist.  Climb- 
ing another  ridge,  we  found  ourselves  looking  down 
upon  Borrowdale  and  the  little  village  of  Rosthwaite, 
one  of  the  loveliest  views  I  ever  beheld.  Sunlight  was 
upon  the  vale  while  we  stood  in  the  shadow.  We  were 
looking  up  Borrowdale  to  the  Sty-head  Pass.  As  we 
descended  into  the  valley  we  could  enjoy  the  view  of 
it  every  step  of  the  way.  At  Rosthwaite  we  had 
luncheon.  It  was  half  past  three.  We  had  still  a 
mountain  to  climb ;  and  as  there  was  something  of 
danger,  for  we   might  lose  our  way  should  the  mist 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  69 

increase,  we  took  a  guide,  a  man  well  known  to  Mr. 
Coleridge  —  one  of  the  dalesmen  of  Borrowdale.  We 
started  at  a  vigorous  pace,  and,  following  the  course 
of  a  stony  brook,  ascended  the  steep  mountain-side. 
It  was  very  sharp  work,  for  it  was  an  absolutely  con- 
tinuous ascent,  and  there  was  no  pathway  whatever. 
There  was  no  sign  of  human  habitation.  On  either 
hand  were  only  the  stony  mountain  slopes.  It  seemed 
a  long  and  weary  way,  but  at  the  end  of  two  hours  of 
steady  climbing  we  reached  the  summit.  A  cold  mist 
here  enveloped  us.  We  hastened  on,  our  guide  ac- 
companying us  a  short  distance  over  the  moor  as  we 
began  our  descent:  he  saw  us  clear  of  the  mist  and 
safely  on  our  way.  When  we  had  reached  an  emi- 
nence from  which  we  could  look  down  into  Far  Eas- 
dale,  our  route  was  clear  to  us,  and  we  turned  and 
waved  our  adieus  to  our  friendly  guide.  W^e  were 
already  a  long  way  off  from  him,  and  he  was  resting 
where  we  had  left  him,  waiting  to  see  that  we  took 
the  right  course.  Descending  rapidly,  we  went  on 
and  on  through  the  desolate  and  lonely  valley  of  Far 
Easdale  —  a  vale  within  a  vale,  for  it  opens  into  Eas- 
dale.  Hereabouts  it  was  that  Georore  and  Sarah  Green 
lost  their  way  and  perished  on  a  winter's  night,  as  the 
story  is  recorded  in  Wordsworth's  verse  and  De  Quin- 
cey  s  exquisite  prose.  So  dreary  is  the  solitude  that 
scarcely  a  sheep-track  is  to  be  found  in  the  valley.  All 
around  there  is  nothing  but  a  bare  and  stony  heath. 

We   hastened   on,   for   Mr.   Coleridge   knew  there 
would    be  anxiety  in  regard  to   us,  as  evening  was 


70  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

drawing  on.  Another  ascent  being  accomplished, 
we  looked  down  into  Easdale,  surrounded  by  its 
mountain-girdle.  The  sun  was  setting,  and  as  we 
were  drawing  near  our  destination  I  almost  forgot 
my  fatigue.  At  length  we  reached  Mr.  Coleridge's 
cottage  at  the  entrance  to  the  Vale  of  Grasmere. 
Mrs.  Coleridge  came  out  to  meet  us,  and  expressed 
much  relief  at  seeing  us.  She  knew  the  perils  of  a 
long  walk  over  these  lonely  mountains. 

I  found  an  invitation  for  me  from  Mrs.  Fletcher,  a 
venerable  lady  of  eighty-five,  who  had  been  a  friend 
of  Jeffrey,  and  one  of  the  literary  circle  of  Edinburgh 
of  sixty  years  and  more  ago.  After  refreshing  our- 
selves, my  friend  and  I  sallied  forth.  Lancrigg  is 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Fletcher's  beautiful  cottage.  We 
found  a  brilliant  company  assembled.  Mrs.  Fletcher 
welcomed  me  with  sweet  but  stately  courtesy.  "  I 
am  always  glad  to  see  Americans,"  she  said ;  "  my 
father  used  to  drink  General  Washinsfton's  health 
every  day  of  his  life."  Her  look  was  radiant  as  she 
said  this:  there  was  light  in  her  eyes  and  colour  in 
her  cheeks,  and  altogether  her  appearance  was  most 
striking.  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  old  age.  I 
talked  with  her  son,  Mr.  Angus  Fletcher,  a  sculptor 
of  some  distinction.  A  bust  of  Wordsworth  and  one 
of  Joanna  Baillie,  works  of  his,  were  in  the  drawing- 
room.  He  told  me  of  his  having  lately  been  to  see 
Tennyson,  who  is  on  Coniston  Water  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood, in  a  house  lent  him  by  Mr.  Marshall  of 
Marshall's  Island.     Mr.  Fletcher  said  he  asked  Ten- 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  71 

nyson  to  read  some  of  his  poetry  to  him.  "  No,"  was 
the  reply;  "  I  will  do  no  such  thing.  You  only  want 
to  take  me  off  with  the  blue-stockings  about  here." 
But  they  got  on  well  together  in  their  after-talk,  and 
Tennyson,  softening  a  little,  said  he  would  read  him 
something.  "  Nothing  of  my  own,  however ;  I  will 
not  give  you  that  triumph.  I  will  read  you  some- 
thing from  Milton."  "Oh,  very  well,"  said  Mr. 
Fletcher ;  "  I  consider  that  quite  as  good  poetry." 

The  evening  over,  a  drive  of  six  miles  brought  me 
to  the  friends  with  whom  I  was  staying  at  Rothay 
Bank,  near  Ambleside. 

August  15. —  Dined  to-day  at  Rydal  Mount  —  the 
one  o'clock  dinner  which  is  always  the  hour  there  — 
with  Mrs.  Wordsworth,  young  William  Wordsworth, 
and  Mr.  Carter.  Six  years  almost  to  a  day  since  I 
last  sat  in  that  quaint  room  in  the  familiar  presence 
of  the  great  poet  himself.  It  is  a  low  room  without 
a  ceiling  —  the  rafters  showing.  A  great  number  of 
small  prints  in  black  frames  are  on  the  walls,  chiefly 
portraits.  There  are  portraits  of  the  royal  family 
also,  but  these  are  in  gilt  frames ;  they  were  the  gift 
of  the  Queen  to  Wordsworth.  I  was  glad  to  see 
again  the  bust  of  Wordsworth  by  Chantrey,  and  also 
the  old  oak  cabinet  or  armoire  with  its  interesting 
Latin  inscription,  both  of  which  the  great  poet  showed 
to  me  as  among  his  choice  possessions.  James,  who 
has  lived  there  for  thirty  years,  waited  at  the  table. 
Mrs.  Wordsworth  asked  me  to  take  wine  with  her, — 
the  courtesy  of  the  old  days,  —  the  single  glass  of  port 


^2 


WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 


which  she  drinks  daily.  It  was  the  last  day  of  her 
eighty-fourth  year. 

The  library,  which  adjoins  the  drawing-room,  is 
smaller  in  size,  and  the  collection  of  books  is  not 
large.  I  noticed  that  many  were  presentation  copies  : 
in  one  of  them,  a  folio  volume  describing  the  Skerry- 
vore  Rock  Lighthouse  —  was  the  following  inscription 
(the  author  of  the  book  was  the  architect  of  the  light- 
house) :  "  To  William  Wordsworth,  a  humble  token  of 
admiration  for  his  character  as  a  man  and  his  genius 
as  a  poet,  and  in  grateful  remembrance  of  the  peace 
and  consolation  derived  from  the  companionship  of 
his  waitings  during  the  author's  solitude  on  the 
Skerryvore  Rock."^ 

John,  the  loquacious  but  intelligent  coachman  of 
the  friend  at  whose  house  I  am  staying,  told  me  of 
his  waiting  at  dinner  at  Rydal  Mount  a  good  many 
years  ago:  his  then  master  was  one  of  the  guests. 
Miss  Martineau,  Hartley  Coleridge,  and  F.  W.  Faber 
were  present.  Mr.  Faber  had  then  charge  of  the 
little  church  at  Rydal.  There  was  a  rush  and  flow 
of  talk,  as  one  could  well  imagine  —  such  a  chatter, 
John  said,  as  he  had  never  heard  —  but  the  instant 
Wordsworth  spoke  all  were  attention.  John  himself 
was  awed  by  the  great  man's  talk,  and  described  well 
its  power.  He  told  me  also  of  a  slight  incident  in 
regard  to  Wordsworth's  last  hours.  Very  shortly 
before  his  death   it  was  thought   he  might    be  more 

^  The  architect  was  Alan  Stevenson,  uncle  of  Robert  Louis  Steven- 
son. 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  Ji 

comfortable  if  he  were  shaved.  Accordingly,  he  was 
raised  in  the  bed,  and  his  faithful  servant  was  about 
to  minister  to  him  in  this  way  when  Wordsworth 
said  in  his  serious,  calm  voice,  "  James,  let  me  die 
easy."  I  may  note  here  something  which  has  been 
told  me  in  regard  to  poor  Hartley  Coleridge's  last 
da3's.  During  his  illness  a  little  child,  the  daughter 
of  an  artist  who  lived  near  him,  quite  an  infant,  used 
to  be  brought  to  him,  and  he  would  sit  for  hours 
holding  it  in  his  arms  and  looking  down  upon  it 
with  mournful  tenderness. 

Sunday,  August  19.  —  Walked  to  the  Rydal  church 
this  morning.  Just  as  I  reached  the  porch,  I  saw 
Mrs.  Wordsworth  with  her  arm  extended  feeling  for 
the  door.  I  went  forward  to  assist  her;  she  turned 
her  kind  face  toward  me,  not  knowing  who  it  was. 
I  told  my  name.  "  Oh,"  said  she,  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you.  You  will  take  a  seat  with  us,  of  course." 
William,  her  grandson,  was  now  close  behind  us. 
We  went  to  the  pew,  the  nearest  to  the  chancel  on 
the  left,  and  I  sat  in  what  had  doubtless  been 
Wordsworth's  seat.  The  prayer-book  I  took  up 
had  on  the  fly-leaf,  "  Dorothy  Wordsworth  to  Will- 
iam Wordsworth,  Jr.,  181 9."  The  service  over,  Mrs. 
Wordsworth  said  to  me,  "  You  will  dine  with  us,  of 
course."  She  took  my  arm,  and  as  we  went  out 
of  the  church  I  was  struck  with  the  looks  of  affec- 
tionate reverence  in  the  faces  of  those  we  passed. 
As  we  walked  along  she  said  in  her  kind  way,  "  I 
should    have    been  glad    if   you    had    taken  up    your 


74 


WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 


abode  with  us  while  here,  but  you  expected  to  leave 
Ambleside  immediately  when  I  last  saw  you."  The 
Misses  Quillinan,  the  step-daughters  of  the  late  Dora 
Quillinan,  who  was  Dora  Wordsworth,  were  the 
guests  beside  myself  to-day.  In  the  drawing-room 
after  dinner  it  was  interesting  to  me  to  look  at 
the  portrait  of  the  elder  Miss  Quillinan  (Jemima), 
taken  when  a  child  six  years  old,  and  to  recall  the 
lines  addressed  to  her,  or  rather  suggested  by  the 
picture :  — 

"  Beguiled  into  forgetfulness  of  care, 
Due  to  the  day's  unfinished  task,  of  pen 
Or  book  regardless,  and  of  that  fair  scene 
In  Nature's  prodigality  displayed 
Before  my  window,  oftentimes  and  long 
I  gaze  upon  a  portrait  whose  mild  gleam 
Of  beauty  never  ceases  to  enrich 
The  common  light." 

The  sonnet,  too,  beginning  — 

"  Rotha,  my  spiritual  child  !  this  head  was  grey 
When  at  the  sacred  font  for  thee  I  stood, 
Pledged  till  thou  reach  the  verge  of  womanhood, 
And  shalt  become  thy  own  sufficient  stay  "  — 

came  naturally  to  my  mind  as  I  talked  with  the 
younger  sister.  These  ladies  are  intelligent  and  re- 
fined, and  of  very  pleasing  manners :  their  mother 
was  a  daughter  of  Sir  Egerton  Brydges.  They  live 
at  a  pretty  cottage  underneath  Lough rigg,  not  far 
from  Fox  How. 

We  went  to  church   again  at   half  past    three:    I 
walked  with    Mrs.  Wordsworth.     She  spoke  of   her- 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  75 

self  —  said  she  was  rapidly  growing  blind:  in  the 
last  week  she  had  perceived  a  great  change.  One 
would  get  used  to  the  deprivation,  she  supposed, 
however.  Her  life  had  been  a  happy  one,  she 
added :  she  had  very  much  to  be  thankful  for.  Her 
manner  in  church,  I  may  mention,  is  most  reverent, 
her  head  bowed  and  her  hands  clasped.  As  I  re- 
turned from  church  with  her,  a  tourist  accosted  me : 
Could  I  tell  him  which  was  Mr.  Wordsworth's  house  ? 
I  pointed  it  out  to  him.  "  We  have  many  such  in- 
quiries," Mrs.  Wordsworth  said. 

I  had  now  to  make  my  final  adieus  to  the  dear 
venerable  lady.  (I  little  thought  I  should  ever  see 
her  again.)  Her  serene  and  tranquil  old  age,  I  said 
to  myself,  would  be  a  remembrance  to  me  for  life. 
She  wished  me  a  good  voyage  and  a  safe  return  to 
my  friends. 

William  Wordsworth  kindly  went  with  me  for  a 
mountain-climb.  We  ascended  Loushriea:,  from 
which  we  looked  down  on  three  lakes,  Windermere, 
Rydal,  and  Grasmere  —  a  last  view  of  all  this  beauty. 
How  lovely  were  the  evening  lights  on  mountain 
and  valley! 

Rothay  Bank,  Ambleside,  August  7,  1857.  —  Again, 
after  a  two  years'  absence,  I  find  myself  in  this  sweet 

region.     With  my  kind  host,  Mr.  C ,  I  went  this 

morning  to  call  on  Mrs.  Arnold  at  Fox  How.  We 
found  six  or  eight  persons  in  the  drawing-room.  It 
was  my  first  meeting  with  Mrs.  Arnold :  she  came 
forward   to   receive    us,  welcomed    me    cordially,  and 


ye  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

presented  me  to  her  three  daughters,  Mrs.  Twining, 
Mrs.  Cropper,  and  Miss  Frances  Arnold.  I  was  fresh 
from  Wharfeside,  the  home  of  her  eldest  daughter, 
Mrs.  Forster.  We  talked  about  that  home  of  such 
peculiar  intellectual  brightness,  and  I  told  of  the 
happy  days  I  had  passed  there.  Mrs.  Arnold's  man- 
ners are  gentle  and  winning.  She  asked  me  what 
evening  I  could  spend  with  them,  and  Sunday  was 
agreed  upon.  Fox  How  I  was  most  glad  to  see  with 
the  stream  of  life  flowing  on  in  it:  when  I  was  last 
here  the  family  were  away.  Mr.  Penrose,  a  brother 
of  Mrs.  Arnold,  a  clergyman  of  Lincolnshire,  Mrs. 
Penrose,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Perry  of  Bonn  were  the 
others  in  the  room.  Dr.  Arnold's  portrait  was  on 
the  wall,  also  prints  of  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  of 
Archbishop  Whately,  of  Wordsworth,  and  of  Julius 
Hare.  The  views  from  the  windows  had  their  own 
peculiar  beauty,  half  hidden  though  the  landscape 
was  to-day  in  rolling  mist. 

August  8.  —  W^alked  to-day  along  the  beautiful  road 
under  Loughrigg,  that  huge  winding  mountain,  past 
Fox  How  and  many  other  lovely  country  homes. 
Went  then  into  the  Vale  of  Rydal  and  skirted  this 
beautiful  lake,  watched  the  reflections  in  the  water, 
and  gazed  on  the  noble  hills  which  surround  the 
vale.  I  continued  on:  Grasmere  came  in  sisfht  —  a 
large  lake  with  a  view  in  the  distance  of  the  square 
white  tower  of  the  church  under  whose  shadow 
Wordsworth  lies.  I  passed  the  cottage  in  which 
Hartley  Coleridge  lived  and  in  which   he   died.     At 


WALKS  IN  \VORDS]VORTWS  COUNTRY  yj 

lensfth  I  reached  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  then  the 
church  which  was  my  destination.  Once  more  I 
stood  at  the  grave  of  Wordsworth,  that  sacred  spot 
which,  as  I  believe,  many  generations  will  visit,  and 
whence  a  voice,  we  may  hope,  will  ever  speak  to  men 
of  the  beauty  of  this  fair  earth  and  the  higher  glory 
of  which  it  is  the  shadow.  The  great  poet  lies  by 
the  side  of  his  daughter,  Dora  Quillinan ;  next  to  her 
lies  Dorothy  Wordsworth,  his  sister;  then  Edward 
Quillinan  and  his  first  wife;  and  there  is  space  left 
for  Mrs.  Wordsworth.  Sarah  Hutchinson,  Mrs. 
Wordsworth's  sister,  also  lies  here :  on  the  stone 
which  marks  her  grave  is  the  following:  — 

"  Near  the  graves  of  two  young  children, 

removed  from  a  family  to  which  through  life  she  was 

devoted, 

Here  lies  the  body 

of 

Sarah  Hutchinson 

the  beloved  sister  and  faithful  friend 

of  mourners  who  have  caused  this  stone  to  be  erected 

with  an  earnest  wish  that  their  own  remains 

may  be  laid  by  her  side,  and  a  humble  hope 

that  through  Christ  they  may  together 

be  made  partakers  of  the  same  Blessed  Resurrection." 

Here  follow  the  dates  of  her  birth  and  death,  and  then — 

"  In  fulfilment  of  the  wish  above  expressed  here  repose 

the  remains  of 

William  '\^^0RDSW0RTH, 

Dorothy  Wordsworth." 

[Space  being  left  for  Mary  Wordsworth.]  A  little 
farther  on  are  the  graves  of  the  two  young  children 


78  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

alluded  to  in  the  foregoing.     On  the  tombstone  of 
one  is  this  inscription:  — 

"  Six  months  to  six  years  added  he  remained 
Upon  this  sinful  earth,  by  sin  unstained. 
O  Blessed  Lord,  whose  mercy  then  removed 
A  child  whom  every  eye  that  looked  on  loved  ! 
Support  us,  make  us  calmly  to  resign 
What  we  possessed,  but  now  is  wholly  Thine," 

I  lingered  near  an  hour  around  these  graves,  and 
then  retraced  my  steps  along  the  water-side  and  be- 
neath the  shade  of  the  solemn  hills.  I  passed  Town 
End,  once  the  residence  of  Wordsworth,  and  halfway 
between  Grasmere  and  Rydal  I  climbed  the  old  road 
to  the  Wishing  Gate,  from  which  there  is  a  beauti- 
ful view  of  Grasmere.  Looking  down  on  this  fair 
and  peaceful  scene,  I  did  not  wonder  ^that  what 
Wordsworth  calls  "the  superstitions  of  the  heart" 
had  invested  the  place  with  a  magic  power.  It 
seemed  natural,  too,  to  think  that  only  what  was 
best  and  purest  in  each  soul  would  be  touched  by 
the  spell. 

"  The  local  Genius  ne'er  befriends 
Desires  whose  course  in  folly  ends, 
Whose  just  reward  is  shame." 

Continuing  my  walk,  I  reached  the  Vale  of  Rydal, 
and  then  turned  by  the  pretty  shady  ascending  road 
leading  to  Rydal  Mount.  I  entered  by  the  small 
gateway  the  fair  terraced  garden  so  rich  in  bloom  and 
fragrance.     I  saw  once  more  the  old  greeting,  Salve ! 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  79 

as  I  stood  on  the  threshold.  James,  the  old  servant, 
welcomed  me  and  conducted  me  to  the  drawing-room. 
I  found  Mrs.  Wordsworth  seated  in  her  old  place  by 
the  fireside.  Her  greeting  was  simple  and  cordial, 
but  only  by  my  voice  could  she  know  me,  for  I  saw  at 
once  that  she  was  quite  blind.  Her  grandson  Will- 
iam was  with  her.  She  was  cheerful  and  bright,  and 
talked  of  the  events  of  the  day  in  the  sweet  quiet  man- 
ner peculiar  to  her,  and  with  clear  intelligence,  and 
yet  she  was  within  a  few  days  of  being  eighty-seven. 
She  was  mindful,  too,  of  the  duties  of  hospitality,  for 
finding  I  had  walked  about  eight  miles  she  insisted 
on  ordering  some  luncheon  for  me.  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  talk  with  young  Wordsworth.  His  resem- 
blance to  his  grandfather  has  become  quite  remark- 
able. He  has  the  same  dreamy  eyes  and  the  same 
forehead.  But  there  seemed  a  benediction  in  the  very 
presence  of  Mrs,  Wordsworth,  so  much  did  her  coun- 
tenance express  peace  and  purity,  so  gentle  and  so 
sweetly  gracious  was  her  bearing. 

Atigust  9,  Sunday.  —  I  went  this  afternoon  to  the 
little  Rydal  church,  and  I  sat  in  Mrs.  Wordsworth's 
pew.  No  one  was  there  but  young  Wordsworth. 
Mrs.  Arnold's  pew  is  directly  opposite,  both  being  at 
the  end  of  the  church  nearest  to  the  chancel.  Mrs. 
Arnold  and  her  three  daughters  were  present.  The 
old  clerk  from  his  desk  near  the  pulpit  said  at  the  end 
of  the  service,  "  Let  us  sing  to  the  praise  and  glory  of 
God  the  'undredth  psalm  — the  'undredth  psalm,"  and 
then  with  feeble  step  walked  down  the  aisle  to  take  his 


80  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

place  as  leader  of  the  choir.  The  preacher  was  a 
stranger,  and  the  sermon  was  an  appeal  for  missions. 
He  seemed  a  good  and  earnest  man,  but  his  manner 
was  odd,  and  some  things  he  said  were  odd  too.  The 
woman  of    Samaria  was    the   text:    "You  remember 

that  when  Dr. of  the  Scotch  Church  was  in  the 

Holy  Land  he  visited  the  well,  and  as  he  sat  there  he 
took  out  his  Bible  to  read  the  chapter,  and  he  let  it 
fall  into  the  well,  and  it  was  not  recovered  for  a  long 
time  afterward:  the  well  was  deep."  But  still  stranger 
was  what  followed.  Speaking  of  our  Lord's  humility: 
"  We  do  not  hear  of  His  going  about  except  on  foot, 
never  in  any  vehicle.  Once  only  do  we  hear  of  His 
ridine  on  an  ass,  and  that  was  a  borrowed  one." 
There  was  a  quaintness  in  this  that  was  worthy  of  the 
old  days,  and  certainly  there  was  nothing  of  irrever- 
ence in  the  preacher's  manner.  John  Mason  Neale,  I 
remember,  quotes  somewhere  the  following  equally 
quaint  utterance  from  a  Middle-Age  writer:  — 

"  Be  Thou,  O  Lord,  the  Rider, 
And  we  the  little  ass, 
That  to  the  Holy  City 
Together  we  may  pass." 

After  the  service  I  walked  up  to  Rydal  Mount  with 
Mrs.  Arnold.  Mrs.  Wordsworth  was  in  the  drawing- 
room.  It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  see  the  two 
ladies  talking:  with  each  other  —  on  the  one  side  rev- 
erence  and  respect,  on  the  other  strong  regard,  and 
on  both  manifest  affection.  I  thought,  would  the 
poet  and  the  teacher  have  been  what  they  were  to  the 


WALKS  hV  H'ORDSIVORTH'S  COUNTRY  8 1 

world  but  for  the  help  and  example  which  each  had  at 
hand  in  his  household  life  ? 

At  half  past  six  I  went  to  Fox  How,  where  I  was 
to  drink  tea.  We  were  a  large  party  at  the  table  : 
we  did  not  remain  long,  however,  for  we  were  to  as- 
cend Loughrigg  to  see  the  sun  set.  We  had  a 
lovely  climb  in  the  long  summer  twilight.  We  wan- 
dered on  to  a  jutting  rock,  and  from  thence  we  saw 
the  sun  go  down  in  glory  behind  the  mountains,  leav- 
ing a  splendour  of  crimson  in  the  light  clouds  for 
long  afterward.  Below  us  was  Loughrigg  Tarn, 
which  Wordsworth  has  somewhere  commemorated. 
]\Irs.  Twining  told  us  of  a  walk  with  the  poet  she 
recalled,  though  she  was  very  young  at  the  time, 
which  occasioned  the  poem  :  her  father  too  was  with 
them.  A  row  of  pines  ascending  a  mountain  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  valley  was  pointed  out  as  "  Fan's 
Funeral"  —  "  A  joke  against  me,"  said  Miss  Arnold. 
It  seemed  that  in  childhood  she  had  somehow  got  the 
impression  that  it  was  a  troop  of  mourners  following 
a  bier  —  perhaps  some  one  had  said,  "  How  like  a 
funeral  !  "  —  and  many  times  afterward,  in  visiting  the 
spot,  the  child  still  supposed  it  was  a  funeral,  and 
wondered  it  should  be  so  long  stationary. 

As  we  came  down  the  mountain,  Miss  Arnold 
spoke  of  her  recollection  of  the  day  of  Wordsworth's 
death.  She  and  one  of  her  young  friends  were  almost 
alone  at  Fox  How.  They  knew  that  the  end  was  at 
hand,  and  their  minds  were  filled  with  the  thought  of 
it.     They  climbed  one  of  the  hills  looking  down   on 


82  WORDSWORTH  AXD    THE  COLERIDGES 

Rydal  Mount,  their  hearts  bowed  with  a  solemnity  of 

feeling —  burning,  one  might  almost  say,  within  them 

as   they   thought   of    the    moment    that    approached. 

Suddenly  as  they  looked  they  saw  that  the  windows 

of  the  house  were  being  closed,  and  they  knew  thus 

of  the  faring  forth  of  the  great  soul.     It  was  almost  as 

if  they  themselves   had   witnessed    his   departure.     I 

could  well  understand  how  the  solemn  Nature  around 

would  have  a  grave  and  awful  look  to  them  as  they 

pondered  in  their  young  hearts  that  ending  and   that 

beginning.     I  spoke  of   Wordsworth's   own   lines  on 

hearing  that  "  the  dissolution  of  Mr.  Fox  was  hourly 

expected  " :  — 

"  A  power  is  passing  from  the  earth 
To  breathless  Nature's  dark  abyss ; 
But  when  the  great  and  good  depart, 
What  is  it  more  than  this  — 

"  That  man,  who  is  from  God  sent  forth, 
Doth  yet  again  to  God  return  ? 
Such  ebb  and  flow  must  ever  be  : 
Then  wherefore  should  we  mourn?  " 

At  Fox  How  we  assembled  again  in  the  pleasant 
drawing-room  :  books  were  brought  out,  and  passages 
referred  to  which  had  been  suggested  in  our  walk. 
At  length  the  bell  was  rung  for  prayers,  and  the  ser- 
vants came  in :  Mr.  Penrose  officiated.  One  could 
not  but  think  how  often  Dr.  Arnold's  voice  had  been 
heard  there  saying  the  same  office.  Some  refresh- 
ment was  brought  in.  I  remained  but  a  few  minutes 
longer.  Mrs.  Arnold  asked  me  to  dine  with  them  on 
Wednesday. 


WALKS  LV   irORDSirORTH'S   COUNTRY  83 

August  10.  —  My  kind  host  has  arranged  an  excur- 
sion of  about  three  days,  that  I  may  see  a  part  of  this 
Lake  District  which  is  seldom  visited.  We  started 
from  his  gate  at  ten  o'clock  by  coach  for  Broughton, 
by  way  of  Coniston  Water  —  a  beautiful  drive,  the 
weather  delightful  and  all  very  promising.  At 
Broughton  we  had  a  glimpse  of  the  valley  of  the 
Duddon.  Thence  we  went  by  rail  along  the  sea- 
coast  as  far  as  Ravenglass,  a  lonely  fishing  village. 
Here  we  hired  a  car  for  Strand's  near  Wast  Water,  a 
distance  of  seven  or  eight  miles.  We  stopped,  how- 
ever, a  mile  from  Ravenglass,  at  IMuncaster  Castle, 
"  the  seat  of  the  ancient  family  of  the  Penningtons." 
The  guidebooks  say  that  Henry  VI.  was  entertained 
here  on  his  flight  after  the  battle  of  Hexham,  and  that 
when  he  left  IMuncaster  he  gave  to  Sir  John  Penning- 
ton an  enamelled  glass  vase.  The  glass  has  been  care- 
fully preserved  in  the  castle,  the  tradition  being  that 
the  family  would  never  want  a  male  heir  while  it  re- 
mained unbroken.  We  drove  through  the  park  by  a 
winding  road,  which  brought  us  to  the  castle.  The 
chief  thing  here  is  what  is  known  as  the  terrace,  cut 
on  a  hillside,  and  commanding  a  view  which  is  said  to 
be  the  finest  in  Cumberland.  All  around  are  noble 
trees  and  beautiful  shrubbery  and  gay  flowers,  so  that 
one  could  hardly  think  the  great  sea  so  near.  Indeed, 
it  had  seemed  like  enchantment,  the  turning  in  from 
the  bleak  coast  to  all  this  rich  foliao^e  and  summer 
beauty.  Very  lovely  are  the  grounds,  because  so 
unartificial.      Nature   has    been   the  great   beautiiier. 


84  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE   COLERIDGES 

After  we  left  the  terrace  we  came  to  a  little  church 
quite  embosomed  in  the  trees  —  as  secluded  a  nook  as 
one  could  imagine :  it  is  in  the  castle  grounds,  but  is 
the  church  of  the  neighbourhood. 

We  continued  our  drive.  Alas !  the  promise  of 
the  morning  was  not  fulfilled.  Clouds  had  gathered, 
and  at  length  the  rain  began.  At  Strand's  we  found 
rooms  in  a  very  small  inn,  and  concluded  to  stay 
there  quietly  for  the  night.  So  we  had  our  tea- 
dinner,  and  composed  ourselves  to  such  indoor 
occupation  as  was  possible.  Books  there  were  few 
of  —  some  volumes  of  Swift's  works,  two  volumes 
of  poems  —  Liverpool  poets  of  fifty  years  ago  who 
had  not  achieved  fame.  However,  with  the  aid  of 
these  notes,  which  had  fallen  in  arrear,  and  with 
occasional  talk,  the  hours  were  beguiled. 

August  II.  —  Still  rainy  and  lowering.  We  break- 
fasted and  waited,  hoping  for  fair-weather  signs.  The 
rain  did  for  a  while  cease,  and  I  drove  alone  to  Wast 
Water,  two  miles  distant.  This  lake  of  black  waters, 
with  the  bare  mountains  rising  round  it,  showed  well 
under  the  sombre  sky.  The  mountains  were  capped 
with  mist,  so  I  could  only  imagine  their  height,  but 
the  whole  length  of  the  lake  lay  stretched  out  before 
me.  In  desolate  savage  beauty  this  surpasses  all  the 
other  lakes  of  the  re2:ion.  It  is  said  to  look  its  best 
on  gloomy  days :  its  dark  colour  is  perhaps  due  to 
the  great  depth  of  the  water. 

Returning  to  the  inn,  I  found  my  friends  all  ready 
for  our  start  for  Seathwaite,  eight  miles  distant.     We 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  85 

had  still  to  keep  to  the  one-horse  car,  the  only  vehi- 
cle to  be  had  in  these  out-of-the-way  places.  At 
Seathwaite  we  obtained  an  open  carriage  for  the  rest 
of  the  journey,  eighteen  miles.  We  passed  through 
Egremont,  and  saw  the  ruins  of  the  castle  —  through 
Ennerdale,  and  stopped  to  look  at  the  churchyard, 
the  scene  of  Wordsworth's  beautiful  pastoral  "  The 
Brothers."  At  Scale  Hill,  which  was  our  destina- 
tion, we  had  again  good  weather,  and  it  was  a  lovely 
view  with  which  our  journey  for  the  day  closed.  My 
friends'  carriage  was  awaiting  us  at  the  hotel,  and 
the  coachman  had  brought  us  our  letters.  He  left 
Rothay  Bank  this  morning,  and  came  by  way  of 
Keswick,  a  drive  of  thirty  miles.  We  dined,  and 
then,  as  the  clouds  had  broken  away  and  the  sun 
was  about  setting,  we  went  out  to  enjoy  the  evening. 
We  climbed  the  hill,  from  which  a  beautiful  view 
of  Crummock  Water  opened  before  us.  John  the 
coachman  came  up  afterward,  bringing  his  bugle, 
on  which  he  plays  very  well.  He  soon  set  for  us 
"  the  wild  echoes  flying,"  and  all  the  vale  below  was 
filled  with  the  sound.  We  then  wandered  away  to 
the  edge  of  the  lake  and  watched  the  play  of  the 
evening  light  on  the  tranquil  waters. 

Aiigtist  12.  —  We  started  at  half  past  six  this  morn- 
ing to  drive  to  Keswick  to  breakfast,  twelve  miles. 
The  weather  was  beautiful,  and  all  the  fair  vales 
and  hills  were  in  their  full  loveliness  in  the  morninof 
light.  As  we  drew  near  Keswick  we  saw  from  a 
hill  Derwentwater  and  Bassenthwaite  Lake,  and  the 


86  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

town  in  the  centre  of  the  valley,  which  lay  below  us. 
We  passed  the  church  where  Southey  lies,  and  then 
crossed  the  Greta  and  drove  by  Greta  Hall,  and  so 
into  Keswick.  Here  we  breakfasted,  and  our  horses 
had  a  two  hours'  rest,  and  we  then  started  again  for 
Ambleside,  seventeen  miles.  We  ascended  first  the 
long  hill  from  which  there  is  the  noble  view  of  the 
Vale  of  Keswick  and  of  its  lakes,  and  of  Skiddaw 
and  the  other  mountains  —  a  view  which  twice  be- 
fore I  have  had  the  happiness  to  see.  When  I  last 
looked  down  on  it,  it  was  under  a  cloudy  sky:  now 
there  was  the  full  beauty  of  sunlight.  But  every 
foot  of  the  way  between  Keswick  and  Ambleside 
has  its  charm :  Southey  calls  it  the  most  beautiful 
drive  in  the  world.  Why  should  I  attempt  to  de- 
scribe it.?  I  may  note  the  wonderful  reflections  in 
the  lakes  of  Grasmere  and  Rydal,  especially  the 
latter.  There  was  no  ripple  to  disturb  the  glassy 
transparency.  The  islands,  the  sloping  shores,  the 
hedges,  and  the  grazing  sheep,  all  were  doubled, 
and  no  water-line  was  to  be  seen.  I  suppose  the 
mountains  around  protect  the  lake  from  currents  of 
wind,  and  give  a  blackness  to  it  which  makes  it  so 
excellent  a  mirror. 

At  a  little  after  one,  my  friends  set  me  down  at 
the  entrance  to  Fox  How.  I  was  to  dine  there  to 
meet  Thomas  Arnold  and  William  Wordsworth,  and 
we  were  to  have  a  walk  together  in  the  afternoon. 
But  Arnold  had  been  suddenly  called  to  Dublin, 
and    had   just   started.      Wordsworth,    however,    was 


WALKS  IIV  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  87 

there,  and  with  him  Mr.  Henry  Crabb  Robinson, 
who  had  just  come  to  spend  a  few  days  at  Rydal 
Mount  —  an  old  man  of  eighty-three,  but  fresh  and 
gay  and  wonderfully  fluent  in  discourse.  He  was 
a  sreat  friend  of  Wordsworth's,  and  was  twice  his 
companion  in  travelling  on  the  Continent.  Southey, 
Coleridge,  and  Lamb  he  knew  well  also.  I  was  pre- 
sented to  him,  and  reminded  him  that  five  years  ago 
I  had  the  honour  to  breakfast  with  him  in  London 
—  a  fact  which,  I  grieve  to  record,  he  seemed  quite 
to  have  forgotten. 

Dinner  was  soon  announced,  and  the  large  table 
was  again  well  filled.  Mr.  Robinson  took  the  talk 
pretty  much.  He  sat  on  Mrs.  Arnold's  right,  and  I 
was  directly  opposite.  Perhaps  it  was  having  me  in 
full  view  that  led  him  to  speak  so  much  of  the  Ameri- 
cans he  had  known  in  the  last  forty  years.  He  told 
us  of  his  chance  meeting  with  young  Goddard  of 
Boston  in  Switzerland  in  1820,  when  he  and  Words- 
worth were  travelling  together,  and  how  that  meeting 
had  caused  poor  Goddard's  death.  Wishing  to  be  in 
Wordsworth's  company,  he  had  asked  Mr.  Robinson's 
permission  to  join  them  in  the  ascent  of  the  Rigi. 
He  altered  by  so  doing  his  course  of  travel,  and  a  day 
or  two  afterward,  in  crossing  the  Lake  of  Zug  in  an 
open  boat  with  a  companion,  a  storm  came  on,  the 
boat  was  upset,  and  he  was  drowned ;  his  companion 
escaped  by  swimming  to  shore.  We  recalled  Words- 
worth's ele2[iac  stanzas  on  the  occasion,  and  I  ven- 
tured  to  add,  as  a  conclusion  to  the  story,  that  when 


88  WORDSWORTH  AXD    THE   COLERIDGES 

Professor  Reed  was  getting  together  the  American 
contribution  to  the  Wordsworth  memorial  window,  a 
letter  came  from  Mrs.  Goddard,  the  mother  of  the 
young  man  who  near  forty  years  before  had  perished, 
desiring  to  take  part  in  the  commemoration,  and 
referring  to  the  imperishable  monument  to  her  son 
which  the  great  poet  had  reared.  She  was  then 
eighty-five,  and  had  lived  to  give  this  token  of  her 
gratitude. 

Mr.  Robinson  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  the 
Rev.  James  Richmond,  an  American,  a  man  of  genius, 
but  famous  chiefly  for  his  eccentricity.  But  I  need 
make  no  further  note  of  his  discourse.  He  divers^ed 
perpetually,  and  sometimes  did  not  come  back  to  the 
main  track  of  his  stor}^  I  was  half  sorry  that  my 
presence  should  be  the  occasion  of  his  talking  so 
much  about  my  countrymen.  I  should  have  pre- 
ferred a  subject  which  would  have  been  of  more  inter- 
est to  the  others  who  were  present.  But  it  was 
idle  to  attempt  to  direct  the  current  of  his  speech. 
Equally  futile  was  Mrs.  Arnold's  effort  to  retain  pos- 
session of  the  joint  which  was  placed  before  her,  and 
which  she  was  about  to  carve.  Mr.  Robinson  insisted 
with  peremptory  courtesy  on  relieving  her,  and  as  he 
brandished  the  o-reat  knife,  continuino-  the  while  his 
animated  talk,  there  was  naturally  a  less  skilful  per- 
formance of  the  duty  which  was  then  of  immediate 
urgency.  Glances  were  exchanged  by  Mrs.  Arnold 
with  some  of  her  guests,  in  part  of  apology  and  in 
part  of  amusement  at  the  spectacle.     And,  sooth  to 


WALKS  IN-  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  89 

say,  the  fair  tablecloth  suffered  from   Mr.  Robinson's 
double  mind. 

I  remained  most  of  the  afternoon  at  Fox  How, 
walking  about  the  grounds  or  sitting  under  the  shade 
of  trees  near  the  house,  talking  with  one  or  other  of 
the  ladies.  Seldom  have  I  passed  pleasanter  hours. 
In  the  evening  I  was  again  with  Mrs.  Arnold  and  her 
daughters  on  a  visit  at  one  of  the  neighbouring  houses. 
Nine  o'clock  came,  and  with  it  the  Times,  which  was 
eagerly  opened.  The  news  from  India  is  just  now  of 
absorbing  interest.  [It  will  be  remembered  that  this 
was  the  year  of  the  Sepoy  Rebellion.]  I  should  men- 
tion that  Mrs.  Arnold  read  us  this  afternoon  letters 
from  her  son  William,  author  of  "  Oakfield,"  from  the 
Punjaub.  Under  date  of  February  last  he  speaks  of 
a  Mohammedan  secret  organization,  having  its  centre 
at  Delhi,  and  ramifications  everywhere,  which  he 
thinks  means  evil.  He  is  the  more  of  this  opinion 
because  his  Persian  secretary,  whom  he  thinks  very 
ill  of,  belongs  to  it.  Writing  under  date  of  June  15, 
he  says  the  Bengal  Sepoy  no  longer  exists,  and  that 
the  civilization  of  fifty  years  has  gone  in  a  day.  The 
laying  of  the  Atlantic  cable  is  another  matter  of  great 
interest  just  now.  All  England  is  watching  its  prog- 
ress. Despatches  from  the  ship  come  almost  hourly 
as  it  steams  westward. 

August  16.  —  My  last  Sunday  in  England.  I  went 
by  the  beautiful  Fox  How  road  to  Rydal  to  church, 
and  sat  in  Mrs.  Wordsworth's  pew.  She  and  Mr. 
Crabb  Robinson  and  William  Wordsworth  were  there. 


90 


WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERTDGES 


Mrs.  Wordsworth  to-day  enters  her  eighty-eighth 
year.  I  sat  by  her  side  as  I  did  two  years  ago,  in 
this  same  pew,  the  Sunday  before  I  sailed.  Her 
meek  countenance,  her  reverent  look,  I  saw  once 
more  —  the  face  of  one  to  whom  the  angels  seemed 
already  ministering.  Service  being  over,  I  shook 
hands  with  her,  and  received  a  kind  invitation  to  dine 
at  Rydal  Mount.  Leaning  on  Mr.  Robinson's  arm,  she 
went  out,  Wordsworth  and  I  following.  Mrs.  Arnold 
and  her  daughters  stopped  to  make  their  congratula- 
tions on  her  birthday,  as  others  did,  following  her 
afterward  with  loving  looks.  We  ascended  the  steep 
hill,  Mr.  Robinson  talking,  as  usual,  a  great  deal. 

Once  more  I  was  at  Rydal  Mount ;  there  were  the 
books,  the  pictures,  the  old  chairs.  I  went  upstairs 
with  Wordsworth  to  his  room ;  it  is  the  one  that 
Dorothy  Wordsworth,  the  poet's  sister,  occupied  so 
lone  —  the  room  in  which  she  died.  The  house  is 
very  old,  the  passages  narrow,  the  ceilings  low,  yet 
there  is  an  air  of  comfort  everywhere.  At  dinner 
Mr.  Robinson  was  the  talker,  as  he  always  is.  He 
told  us  of  his  intercourse  with  Goethe.  He  said  he 
never  mentioned  Wordsworth's  name  to  Goethe,  fear- 
ing that  he  would  either  say  he  had  never  read  his 
poetry  or  that  he  did  not  like  it.  He  said  Southey 
was  only  a  collector  of  other  men's  thoughts  :  Words- 
worth gave  forth  his  own.  Wordsworth  was  like  the 
spider,  spinning  his  thread  from  his  own  substance  ; 
Southey  the  bee,  gathering  wherever  he  could.  Mrs. 
Wordsworth  did  not  join  us  at  table  till  the  dessert 


WALKS  m  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  9 1 

came  in.  Then  her  one  glass  of  port  having  been 
poured  out  for  her,  she  took  it  in  her  hand  and  turning 
her  face  toward  me,  said,  "  I  wish  you  your  health,  and 
a  prosperous  voyage  and  a  safe  return  to  your  friends  !  " 
The  interval  after  dinner  was  short.  I  received,  if 
I  may  so  say,  Mrs.  Wordsworth's  final  blessing  and 
went  my  way,  thankful  it  had  been  given  me  to  draw 
near  to  one  so  pure,  to  a  nature  so  nobly  simple. 
Not  only  her  children,  but  all  who  have  come  in 
contact  with  her,  will  rise  up  to  call  her  blessed. 
Surely,  thrice  blessed  was  the  poet  with  such  a  wife ; 
and  indeed  he  himself  with  wonderful  fulness  has 
declared  she  was  almost  as  the  presence  of  God  to 
him:  — 

"  That  sigh  of  thine,  not  meant  for  human  ear, 
Tells  that  these  words  thy  humbleness  offend ; 
Yet  bear  me  up  —  else  faltering  in  the  rear 
Of  a  steep  march  :  support  me  to  the  end. 

"  Peace  settles  where  the  intellect  is  meek, 
And  Love  is  dutiful  in  thought  and  deed  ; 
Through  thee  communion  with  that  love  I  seek ; 
The  faith  Heaven  strengthens  where  he  moulds  the  creed." 

My  last  evening  in  this  sweet  region  was  spent  at 
Fox  How.  With  Mr.  Thomas  Arnold  and  Miss  Ar- 
nold I  once  more  in  the  long  twilight  climbed  Lough- 
riffo"  Fell.  There  stretchins:  out  before  us  was  ranore 
after  range  of  grey  mountains,  with  Skiddaw  in  the 
distance  —  a  solemn  and  peaceful  view,  and  to  me  a 
leave-taking  of  one  of  the  loveliest  regions  of  the  earth. 

Hotel,  Windermere  Station,  July  4,  1873. —  Again, 


92  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

after  sixteen  years'  interval,  I  am  on  the  threshold 
of  this  lovely  region.  I  have  been  walking  in  the 
twilight  hours  through  bowery  lanes,  hoping  to  reach 
the  lake ;  but  I  took  a  wrong  direction,  and  only  when 
it  was  time  to  return  did  I  get  from  a  high  part  of  the 
road  a  glimpse  of  the  fair  waters.  I  passed  many  gate- 
ways, with  broad  gravelled  drives  leading  from  them, 
doubtless  to  beautiful  homes,  for  all  this  neighbour- 
hood is  occupied  by  lovely  dwellings,  more  or  less 
secluded  and  embowered  in  all  luxuriant  greenery. 
It  was  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  when  I  eot 
back  to  the  solitude  of  the  hotel.  There  were  people 
there,  no  one  of  whom  I  knew.  I  can  stand  beino: 
alone  with  Nature ;  but  the  constrained  silence  of  the 
coffee-room  of  an  English  inn  is  a  trifle  depressing. 

July  5. —  I  started  early  in  a  fly  for  the  ferry  at 
Bowness,  then  crossed  the  lake  in  almost  a  toy 
steamer  to  the  Nab  promontory,  and  thence  took 
my  way  on  foot  by  a  quickly  ascending  road  toward 
Hawkshead.  From  the  summit  of  the  ridsre  I  looked 
back  upon  Lake  Windermere,  with  its  wooded  prom- 
ontories and  its  islands  and  its  encirclins^  mountains. 
The  morning  was  beautiful,  and  the  whole  scene  was 
in  its  rich  summer  loveliness.  I  had  forofotten  how 
fair  and  glorious  were  these  Westmoreland  lakes  and 
mountains.  Farther  on  I  came  to  Esthwaite  Water, 
a  lake  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length,  and  soon  afterward 
I  entered  the  Vale  of  Hawkshead.  The  old  church, 
on  a  rocky  eminence,  is  the  chief  object  as  you  ap- 
proach the  town.     At  the  base  of  the  hill  on  which 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  93 

it  stands  is  the  grammar  school  at  which  Wordsworth 
received  his  first  lessons,  as  he  tells  us  in  "  The  Prel- 
ude." I  found  carpenters  at  work  in  the  old  school- 
room, and  one  of  them  told  me  he  had  himself  been 
a  scholar  there,  and  he  showed  me  the  desk  at  which 
Wordsworth  sat.  The  schoolhouse,  the  church,  and 
the  streets  of  the  town  had  all  a  quaint  and  antique 
look.  I  could  fancy  there  had  been  little  change 
since  Wordsworth  and  his  brother  Christopher,  after- 
ward master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  were 
scholars  here,  near  a  hundred  years  ago.  It  had 
been  the  chief  object  of  my  pilgrimage  —  the  sight  of 
this  schoolhouse.  Coniston  was  my  further  destina- 
tion. A  coach  was  standing  at  the  door  of  an  inn, 
which  I  found  was  just  starting  for  this  place,  so  I 
climbed  to  an  outside  seat,  and  found  as  my  sole  com- 
panion a  good-natured  man  who  at  once  entered  into 
talk  with  me.  He  seemed  a  well-to-do  man,  and  as 
he  told  me  soon  whence  he  had  come  and  whither 
he  was  going,  I  naturally  imparted  to  him  what  had 
been  the  object  of  my  pilgrimage  to  Hawkshead.  He 
seemed  to  find  it  hard  to  account  to  himself  for  my 
enthusiasm ;  still,  the  only  inquiry  he  made  of  me  in 
endeavouring  to  enlighten  himself  was  a  singular 
one.  "  Was  he  a  rich  man  ? "  he  asked  me,  referring 
to  Wordsworth.  I  was  obliged  to  admit  that  he  was 
not.  Then  we  talked  of  the  races  at  Newcastle,  and 
on  this  subject  my  companion  had  greatly  the  advan- 
tage of  me. 

We   descended    upon    Coniston    Water  by  a  long 


94  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

steep  hill.  The  hotel  known  as  the  Waterhead  Inn 
is  beautiful  as  to  architecture,  and  there  were  about 
it  flower-beds  with  geraniums  in  glorious  bloom  — 
such  splendour  of  colour  as  I  never  saw  before.  I 
went  out  in  a  boat  on  the  lake,  and  enjoyed  for  a 
while  the  view  of  the  hills  around.  Then  rain  came 
on,  and  I  had  to  row  quickly  back,  and  my  remaining 
hours  were  spent  at  the  inn.  But  the  spacious  coffee- 
room  commanded  such  a  delightful  view  that  there 
was  little  hardship  in  remaining  indoors.  At  about 
five  in  the  afternoon  I  started  on  the  coach  for  Amble- 
side. I  was  on  top,  by  the  coachman,  a  civil  fellow 
who  knew  every  foot  of  the  way.  Three  young  ladies 
sat  on  the  still  higher  seat  behind.  They  were  of 
severe  propriety  of  manner,  but  they  were  refined,  and 
talked  with  a  careful  modulation  of  voice  which  is 
peculiarly  English.  The  afternoon  was  dull,  but  it 
did  not  rain.  The  road  was  perpetually  either  up 
hill  or  down,  and  the  views  every  step  of  the  way 
were  lovely.  We  went  through  Yewdale,  and  stopped 
within  a  few  minutes'  walk  of  Skelwith  Force,  a  water- 
fall reminding  one  of  a  single  portion  of  Trenton  Falls. 
Time  was  allowed  us  to  see  this,  and  then  we  climbed 
to  our  high  seats  again,  the  young  ladies  having  the 
help  of  a  ladder,  and  drove  along  the  banks  of  the 
Brathay,  passing  as  I  drew  near  Ambleside  the  gate- 
way of  the  pretty  house  which  had  been  a  home  to 
me  in  two  former  visits.  Alas !  the  dispensers  of  that 
gracious  hospitality,  my  kind  host  and  hostess,  have 
both  been  removed  by  death.     At  the  Salutation  Inn, 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  95 

Ambleside,  I  received  the  welcome  answer  that  I  could 
have  a  room :  the  travelling  season  has  begun,  and  as 
I  had  not  written  in  advance,  I  had  my  fears. 

July  6. —  It  rained  last  night  when  I  went  to  bed, 
but  the  day  broke  gloriously,  and  this  wonderful,  this 
enchanting  region  seemed  to  have  a  new  and  fresh 
charm.  A  young  Canadian  joined  me  in  my  walk  to 
the  Rydal  church  just  under  Rydal  Mount.  There 
was  the  little  church  just  as  I  had  last  seen  it,  only 
that  it  had  been  greatly  improved  as  to  the  exterior 
architecture.  Inside  it  was  but  little  changed:  the 
old  high-backed  pews  remained.  There  in  her  ac- 
customed place,  in  the  large  square  pew  near  the 
chancel,  sat  Mrs.  Arnold,  and  by  her  Miss  Frances 
Arnold,  both  fronting  the  small  congregation.  I 
looked  at  the  pew  on  the  other  side  and  missed 
the  sweet  and  aged  face  of  Mrs.  Wordsworth.  But 
the  whole  church  seemed  a  memorial  of  her.  My 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Arnold  and  Miss  Arnold  was  very 
pleasant  and  cordial  when  the  service  was  over; 
they  asked  me  to  dine  with  them,  and  introduced  me 
to  the  dean  of  Durham,  who  was  with  them.  Mrs. 
Arnold  and  the  dean  drove.  Miss  Arnold  said  she 
would  walk,  so  she  and  her  nephew  (a  son  of 
Thomas  Arnold,  looking  wonderfully  like  his  uncle, 
Matthew  Arnold)  and  I  went  by  that  most  lovely 
road  which  winds  underneath  Loughrigg.  The  walk 
and  the  talk  were  delightful  to  me ;  the  day  was 
of  rare  splendour,  and  there  was  the  unspeakable 
beauty  of  the  valley  and  of  the  mountains  around. 


96  WORDSWORTH  AXD    THE   COLERIDGES 

At  Fox  How,  Mrs.  Arnold  and  the  dean  were  in 
the  garden;  the  dear  old  lady  (she  is  now  eighty-two) 
came  forward  and  made  the  kindest  inquiries  about 
those  I  had  left  at  home,  and  was  in  every  way  most 
gentle  and  gracious.  And  then  we  walked  into  the 
house,  and  into  the  drawing-room,  and  it  seemed  like 
a  bit  of  enchantment,  the  view  from  the  window 
looking  back  over  the  way  we  had  come  —  the  sol- 
emn mountains  shutting  all  the  beauty  in,  as  it  were, 
giving  a  framework  and  a  setting  to  it.  We  sat  and 
talked,  and  there  was  such  a  sense  of  kindly  feeling 
as  to  make  the  hospitality  I  was  enjoying  doubly 
grateful.  The  ladies  went  away  for  a  moment,  and 
I  could  look  at  the  books  and  the  pictures.  Every- 
thing spoke  of  culture  and  of  thought.  Much 
seemed  to  have  been  added  to  the  room  since  I 
last  saw  it.  A  fine  drawing  in  water-colour,  a  por- 
trait of  Mrs.  Arnold,  hung  over  the  fireplace  —  a 
recent  picture.  On  the  table  I  saw  two  thick  vol- 
umes—  the  memoir  and  letters  of  Sara  Coleridge. 
I  had  not  known  that  the  book  was  out :  it  seemed 
strange  that  I  should  see  it  for  the  first  time  at  Fox 
How. 

Our  talk  at  dinner  was  very  pleasant.  The  dean 
of  Durham  is  Dr.  Lake;  he  was,  as  Miss  Arnold  in- 
formed me.  Dr.  Arnold's  favourite  pupil.  The  fact 
of  his  being  a  dean  was  proof  of  his  learning  and 
high  reputation ;  for  in  latter  times  these  appoint- 
ments are  only  given  on  the  ground  of  distinguished 
merit.       He    said    Emerson    dined    with    him    some 


WALKS  IN  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  97 

months  ago  when  at  Durham ;  that  he  spoke  of  having 
seen  a  good  deal  of  Carlyle  when  in  London;  that 
he,  Carlyle,  was  out  of  health  and  depressed.  The 
loss  of  his  wife  preyed  on  him ;  he  was  unable  to 
sleep,  and  the  chief  comfort  he  found  in  his  sleepless 
hours  was  in  saying  over  and  over  again  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  Emerson's  daughter  was  travelling  with  him, 
but  being  unwell,  she  could  not  go  to  dine  at  the 
dean's.  At  the  table  something  from  Keble  was 
quoted,  but  neither  Emerson  nor  the  dean  could  get 
it  right.  "  Oh,  I'll  ask  my  daughter,"  said  Emerson. 
Emerson  went  with  the  dean  to  the  cathedral  service, 
and  seemed  greatly  impressed  by  it.  We  talked  of 
the  Hare  book,  "  Memorials  of  a  Quiet  Life."  Miss 
Arnold  had  known  well  both  Aus^ustus  and  Maria 
Hare,  as  well  as  Julius  and  Esther  Hare ;  indeed,  it 
was  probably  at  Fox  How  that  the  engagement  of 
Julius  Hare  to  Esther  Maurice  took  place.  The 
writer  of  the  "  Memorials  "  was  well  known  to  them 
at  Fox  How  —  a  man  of  some  eccentricity  of  char- 
acter. Miss  Arnold  said  she  had  within  a  few  days 
talked  about  the  book  with  Miss  Martineau,  who  de- 
nounced it  on  some  fantastic  ground  or  other.  Miss 
Arnold  said  it  was  not  pleasant  to  her  to  hear  this 
adverse  criticism  —  "  But  you  know  one  cannot  tell  a 
lady  of  great  age,  through  a  trumpet,  that  you  utterly 
object  to  what  she  is  saying."  The  dean  spoke  of 
Professor  Jowett  with  admiration,  though  he  could 
not  wholly  agree  with  him.  Of  Maurice  the  dean 
spoke  with  great  respect;    he  said  Hutton,  the  editor 


98  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

of  the  Spectator,  was  the  chief  representative  of  his 
opinions.  Mr.  Forster,  too,  might  be  mentioned  as  a 
leading  man  on  whom  the  teaching  of  Maurice  had 
had  a  strong  influence.  Mrs.  Arnold  took  part  with 
much  animation  in  all  the  talk ;  she  seemed  perfectly 
bright  in  mind.  I  was  delighted  to  see  her  cheerful- 
ness and  serenity,  and  to  feel  that  her  closing  days 
had  so  much  of  joy  in  them. 

As  I  climbed  Loughrigg  late  in  the  afternoon  I 
thought  of  the  long  thirty  years  of  Mrs.  Arnold's 
widowhood,  and  of  how  much  had  been  given  to 
cheer  its  loneliness,  —  the  loving  dutifulness  of  her 
children,  her  home  in  this  beautiful  region,  around 
which  must  cling,  for  her,  such  vivid  and  tender 
associations,  the  ever  recurring  evidences  of  the  fruit- 
fulness  of  her  husband's  teaching;.  All  this  must 
have  brought  peace  to  her  in  the  slowly  passing 
years.  I  thought  of  Wordsworth,  too,  when,  my  view 
widening  with  each  step,  I  at  last  reached  a  height 
from  which  I  could  look  down  on  Rydal  Water  as 
well  as  Windermere.  I  wondered  whether  this  2:rand 
Nature  had  made,  the  man,  or  w^hether  his  genius  had 
invested  it  with  something  of  the  charm  which  it  has 
now  for  all  beholders.  I  stood  among  grey  mossy 
rocks ;  sheep  were  browsing  on  the  grassy  spaces  be- 
tween ;  below  me  lay  the  whole  Ambleside  Valley, 
with  the  church  in  the  centre.  A  very  Sabbath  still- 
ness seemed  on  all  the  hills  and  in  the  vale  beneath. 
I  said  to  myself,  "  Surely  to  any  man  such  sights  as 
these  must  give  elevation  of  mind :  how  much  more 


WALKS  nV  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  99 

to  a  poet ! "  I  could  understand  the  good  that  must 
have  come  to  Wordsworth,  wandering  as  he  did  over 
these  hills,  with  the  thought  ever  present  to  him  that 
Nature  was  to  be  his  teacher,  and  that  it  was  to  be 
his  work  to  interpret  her  to  men. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  I  called  on  the  Misses  Quil- 
linan  (Jemima  and  Rotha,  commemorated  by  Words- 
worth), and  had  pleasant  talk  with  them  over  the  past. 
They  told  me  that  my  friend  of  former  visits,  William 
Wordsworth,  the  poet's  grandson,  was  now  at  home 
from  India  on  a  visit;  he  has  been  head  of  a  college 
at  Poonah  for  twelve  years.  I  shall  hope  to  see  him 
when  I  reach  Cockermouth.  The  ladies  told  me  that 
the  old  Wishing  Gate  had  been  removed,  and  a  new 
gate  put  in  its  place;  they  showed  me  a  bar  of  the 
old  gate,  and  I  sought  to  make  trial  once  more  of 
its  mystic  power.  The  Misses  Quillinan,  as  being 
the  step-daughters  of  Dora  Quillinan,  are  the  nearest, 
and  indeed  the  only,  representatives  of  Wordsworth 
remaining  here  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rydal  Mount. 

July  7.  —  I  left  Ambleside  to-day  for  Keswick.  I 
was  on  the  outside  of  the  coach,  and  had  a  full  view 
of  the  slopes  of  the  hills,  the  green  of  the  pastures, 
fretted  here  and  there  by  crags;  and  I  saw  the 
sweet  lakes  once  more,  Rydal  and  Grasmere,  and 
farther  on  there  were  numerous  flocks  of  sheep  com- 
ing down  the  mountains,  probably  for  the  shearing. 
Dogs  were  guiding  them  and  keeping  them  together 
with  wonderful  and  unerring  instinct.  And  then  we 
passed  Thirlmere,  which  is  the  highest  of  the  Eng- 


lOO  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

lish  lakes.  Here  the  view  had  become  wild  and 
desolate,  the  hillsides  bare  and  rocky.  We  descended 
from  this  high  valley  into  a  fair  smiling  country  once 
more.  The  coach  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  St. 
John's  Vale,  and  I  determined  to  walk  to  Keswick 
by  that  route.  It  is  a  narrow,  winding  valley,  shut 
in  by  deep  hills,  with  a  stream  flowing  through  it. 
On  either  side  of  the  water  there  is  thick  wood,  but 
with  open  spaces  here  and  there,  and  farmhouses. 
The  rocks  which  overhang  the  vale  at  about  the 
centre  have  the  look  of  a  fortress.  I  entered  the 
vale  of  the  Greta,  and  then  descended  the  long 
Saddleback,  and  made  my  way  at  length  to  the 
Portinscale  Hotel;  there  I  rested  after  my  three 
hours'  walk,  and  in  the  evening  went  on  by  rail  to 
the  neighbourhood  of  Cockermouth,  where  I  was  to 
spend  a  few  days  at  the  house  of  some  friends. 

Of  this  visit  I  need  make  but  little  record.  I  saw 
at  Cockermouth  the  square  and  respectable  mansion, 
quite  the  most  considerable  house  in  the  town,  in 
which  Wordsworth  was  born  April  7,  1770.  The 
house  has  undergone  but  little  change,  it  is  said, 
since  that  date.  I  met  William  Wordsworth,  too,  as 
I  had  hoped  I  should.  He  and  his  wife  were  staying 
with  his  father,  the  Rev.  John  Wordsworth,  vicar  of 
Cockermouth.  He  was  bearded  and  bronzed  and 
otherwise  changed,  as  a  man  well  might  be  after  twelve 
years  in  India.  His  wife  showed  more  of  the  ill  effect 
of  the  climate ;  her  appearance  was  extremely  delicate. 


WALKS  IN-  WORDSWORTH'S  COUNTRY  loi 

I  may  note  one  interesting  incident  which  Mr. 
Wordsworth  told  me.  He  had  been  on  a  visit  to 
Professor  Jowett  at  Oxford,  and  was  there  on  a 
Saturday,  the  day  on  which  Jowett  gathers  about 
him  people  of  distinction.  "  On  this  occasion,"  said 
Wordsworth,  "  I  was  to  hand  out  to  dinner  a  par- 
ticular lady,  but  her  name  was  not  mentioned  to 
me,  or  at  least  I  did  not  catch  it.  She,  however, 
was  told  that  I  was  a  grandson  of  Wordsworth. 
'  Oh,'  said  she,  '  I  began  to  read  Wordsworth  when 
I  was  fifteen,  and  have  gone  on  ever  since  with  con- 
tinually increasing  pleasure ; '  and  then  her  talk 
flowed  on  with  such  strength  and  power,  and  showed 
such  elevation  of  mind  and  such  grasp  and  mastery 
of  all  learning,  that  I  was  certain  she  could  be  no 
other  than  Mrs.  Lewes.  So  I  asked  her  if  she  was 
not  the  author  of  "  Middlemarch,"  and  she  said  she 
was.  In  the  drawing-room  afterward  she  showed 
herself  on  the  same  level  with  Greek  scholars  and 
men  of  science,  with  whom  she  talked,  filling  with 
wonder  all  who  listened." 

Mr.  Wordsworth  spoke  of  his  important  position 
at  Poonah,  giving  him  direction  of  the  education 
both  of  Hindoos  and  Europeans.  I  could  not  doubt 
his  fitness  for  the  work  he  had  undertaken ;  but  I 
remembered  what  I  thought  was  the  promise  of  six- 
teen years  ago,  and  I  fancied  that  whatever  India 
might  have  gained,  England  had  lost  a  man  of 
letters  —  perhaps  a  poet.  He  was  the  last  of  my 
friends  of  the  Lake  District  with  whom   I  had  inter- 


102  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

course  in  that  visit  of  1873.  It  chanced  that  he 
accompanied  me  on  my  journey  from  Cockermouth 
to  Carlisle,  and  there,  on  the  threshold  as  it  were 
of  the  region,  we  parted  —  he  for  the  East  when 
his  brief  furlough  should  be  over,  I  for  the  West. 
I  felt  always  that  I  had  much  in  common  with  him ; 
but  now,  with  half  the  globe  between  us,  and  the 
changes  which  the  flowing  years  might  bring,  the 
chance  was  small  of  our  ever  meeting  again. 


SARA  COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS, 
HARTLEY  AND  DERWENT  COLERIDGE 


SARA  COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS, 
HARTLEY  AND  DERWENT  COLERIDGE. 

My  introduction  to  the  son  and  the  daughter  of 
Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  was  by  a  letter  from  Pro- 
fessor Henry  Reed.  With  the  kindness  of  heart 
peculiar  to  him,  he  came  to  me  the  evening  before  I 
left  Philadelphia,  to  tell  me  he  had  just  received  a 
long  and  very  interesting  letter  from  Mrs.  Henry 
Nelson  Coleridge,  —  the  poet's  daughter  Sara  (she 
had  married  her  cousin),  —  that  she  had  written  in  a 
manner  so  open  and  friendly  that  he  felt  quite  justi- 
fied in  giving  me  a  note  of  introduction  to  her  —  here 
it  was. 

I  had  known  her,  in  a  way,  because  of  other  re- 
markable letters  from  her,  which  Professor  Reed  had 
allowed  me  to  see ;  I  had  especially  been  brought  into 
association  with  her  from  the  pleasure  with  which  I 
had  read  her  notes  to  her  father's  "  Biographia  Lite- 
raria."  Marvels  of  learning  and  wisdom  these  notes 
seemed  to  be ;  but  what  especially  had  charmed  me 
was  the  criticism  they  contained,  supplementing  her 
father's,  of  the  poetry  of  Wordsworth.  Henry  Nel- 
son Coleridge,   a  man  of   high  accomplishment,  had 

los 


I06  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

begun  the  editing  of  the  "  Biographia  Literaria," 
but,  after  his  early  death,  it  was  left  to  his  widow  to 
complete  the  commentary  and  to  publish.  A  distinct 
gain  to  literature  are  her  additions  and  criticisms; 
her  soul  speaks  out  to  one  as  she  aims  to  interpret 
her  father  to  the  world.  One  cannot  but  think  what 
would  have  been  the  joy  and  comfort  of  Coleridge  had 
he  known  what  his  daughter  was  to  do  for  his  fame. 

It  was  with  something  of  the  ardour  of  youth  that 
I  called  on  Mrs.  Coleridge  in  London  in  June  of  1849. 
I  was  now  to  have  my  first  meeting  in  England  with 
one  of  the  band  of  writers  to  whom  I  had  been  in- 
debted for  many  happy  hours.  My  love  of  literature 
had  been  great  from  boyhood,  and  my  feeling  for 
Wordsworth's  poetry  was  almost  a  passion.  The  lady 
I  was  soon  to  see  was  the  one  in  all  Eno-land  who 
best  represented  Wordsworth,  her  mind  being  in  part 
the  creation  of  his  own. 

I  see  her  now  as  she  entered  her  pretty  drawing- 
room,  her  face  pale,  her  complexion  almost  trans- 
parent, her  eyes  large  and  of  a  peculiar  lustre.  I 
could  well  understand  that  she  had  been  beautiful  in 
youth.  She  received  me  with  gentle  cordiality.  I 
felt  sure  that  her  feeling  for  my  introducer  could  not 
but  be  warm,  so  like-minded  was  he  in  his  interest  in 
literature,  and  so  at  one  with  her  in  his  estimate  of 
her  father's  writings,  and  his  deep  sense  of  the  value 
to  the  world  of  the  poetry  of  Wordsworth.  I  was 
received,  as  I  have  said,  with  much  kindness,  and  was 
an  eager  listener  to  Mrs.  Coleridge's  pleasant  and  ani- 


SA/iA    COLERIDGE  AIVD  HER  BROTHERS  107 

mated  talk  on  the  subjects  of  the  day.  The  Oxford 
Tract  writers,  Newman  and  others,  were  much  in  the 
minds  of  men  at  the  time.  Manning,  still  in  the  Eng- 
lish Church,  had  published  sermons  in  the  manner  of 
Newman,  but  much  more  rhetorical,     Mrs.  Coleridge 

O 

spoke  of  him  as  a  "  much  weaker  Newman."  Dr. 
Pusey  she  had  been  greatly  impressed  by  as  a 
preacher.  But  she  could  not  give  her  assent  to  the 
theories  of  the  Tract  writers,  as  a  whole,  regarding 
them  as  essentially  at  variance  with  the  teaching  of 
the  English  Church.  At  that  time  men  of  the  high- 
est grasp  were  delivering  themselves  on  questions  of 
theology.  Sara  Coleridge  had  inherited  a  deep  inter- 
est in  these  questions.  Her  talk  impressed  me  much  ; 
for  I  felt  how  rich  was  her  mental  endowment,  how 
high  and  pure  her  thought.  Aubrey  de  Vere,  in 
speaking  of  her,  has  dwelt  on  "  the  radiant  spirituality 
of  her  intellectual  and  imaginative  being,"  and  no 
words  can  better  describe  the  charm  of  her  personal 
presence.  Yet  there  was,  as  I  talked  with  her,  a  look 
almost  of  languor  in  her  eyes,  an  undefined  something 
showino;  that  her  health  mi^ht  be  frail.  The  hand  of 
death  was  probably  even  then  on  her,  known  only  to 
herself.  I  learned  afterward  that  she  gave  no  sign 
to  those  nearest  to  her  of  her  dread  anticipation. 

I  was  able  to  see  Mrs.  Coleridge  again  after  my 
return  from  the  Continent.  I  was  with  her  for  an 
hour  and  a  half.  She  talked  with  peculiar  animation ; 
there  was  the  glow  of  genius  in  her  face  —  a  radiant 
expression  that  put  one  under  a  spell.     She  expressed 


I08  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

regret  that  I  was  not  to  remain  in  London  to  take 
part  in  their  Winter  Society.  I  said  to  myself,  what 
joy  would  be  greater ! 

The  cholera  was  at  that  time  a  subject  of  dread  in 
London  because  of  its  ravages  in  Paris  of  two  months 
before,  the  deaths  there  having  been  nine  hundred  a 
day  for  many  days. 

I  may  note  here  an  incident,  personal  to  myself,  of 
the  cholera  visitation  in  Paris  of  June,  1849.  I  was 
in  London  at  the  time,  and  met,  one  morning,  at  a 
house  at  which  I  had  my  lodgings,  a  gentleman  who 
had  arrived  from  Paris  the  night  before.  I  was  pres- 
ent as  he  told  the  lady  of  the  house  that  he  had  left 
Paris  suddenly  because  he  had  been  obliged  to  close 
his  establishment  —  his  men  would  not  remain.  "I 
had  no  fear  myself,"  he  said, "  my  father  died  in  my 
arms;  I  kissed  him  when  he  died."  He  spoke  with 
strong  emotion,  and  I  remember  the  tears  which  were 
in  the  eyes  of  the  lady  to  whom  he  talked.  He  seemed 
a  man  of  cultivation  and  refinement;  I  did  not  learn 
his  name.  Six  weeks  afterward  I  was  in  Paris,  and 
was  asked  by  an  American  friend  to  go  with  him  to 
meet  M.  Henri  Gerente,  the  leading  maker  of  stained 
glass  in  Paris.  My  friend  wished  to  give  him  an  order 
for  a  window  for  the  church  of  St.  James  the  Less, 
Philadelphia.  M.  Gerente  was  of  high  reputation ; 
he  had  just  done  important  work  at  Ely  Cathedral ; 
and  the  Government  of  Louis  Philippe  had  given 
over  to  him  the  restoration  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle, 
especially  the  renewal  of  the  great  windows  of  that 


SARA   COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  109 

glorious  gem  of  thirteenth  century  Gothic.  It  was  at 
the  Sainte  Chapelle  we  were  to  meet  him.  We  found 
him  there.  Behold,  it  was  the  gentleman  with  whom 
I  had  had  my  early  morning  meeting  in  London ! 
He  drew  rapidly  for  us  the  design  he  proposed  for  the 
St.  James  the  Less  window  —  a  series  of  medallions 
in  which  the  figures  would  be  very  small,  and  thus  a 
jewel-like  radiance  secured.  We  instantly  approved. 
The  east  window  at  St.  James  the  Less  —  as  glorious 
a  piece  of  colour  as  there  is  in  America  —  stands,  I 
trust,  for  all  time,  to  sustain  our  judgment. 

After  some  study  of  the  lovely  Sainte  Chapelle, 
under  M.  Gerente's  guidance,  he  drove  with  us  to 
Notre-Dame,  where  very  important  work  was  going 
on  —  the  rebuilding  of  the  South  Transept;  Viollet- 
le-Duc  had  charge  of  this,  the  most  eminent  architect 
of  France,  perhaps  of  Europe.  We  were  fortunate  in 
finding  him  there.  M.  Gerente  presented  us  to  him, 
a  man  tall  and  of  striking  presence.  When  my  friend 
and  I  drove  away,  we  left  M.  Gerente  standing  on  the 
pavement  in  front  of  the  great  western  towers;  he 
waved  his  hand  to  us ;  I  see  him  now  as  he  smiled  in 
bidding  us  adieu.  A  fortnight  afterward  he  died 
of  cholera.  Though  I  did  not  then  know  of  it,  it  was 
about  the  time  of  my  visit  to  Mrs.  Coleridge. 

I  note  here  a  passage  from  a  letter  of  Mrs.  Cole- 
ridge to  Professor  Reed,  of  some  months  later,  refer- 
ring to  my  visit.  I  make  the  extract,  partly  because 
of  the  message  of  kindness  it  contains,  and  partly  be- 
cause it  is  in  itself  somewhat  singular. 


no  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

"  I  think  I  have  not  written  to  you  since  I  saw  your  friend 
Mr.  Yarnall.  Will  you  give  my  kind  remembrances  to  him, 
and  say  that  I  look  back  to  our  last  conversation  with  much 
interest,  and  that  both  my  brother  and  I  should  feel  much 
pleasure  in  seeing  him  again  if  he  ever  revisited  England. 
He  was  here  at  a  fearful  time,  when  the  mysterious  visitation 
of  cholera,  and  its  sudden  destruction  of  human  life,  kept  me 
in  a  perpetual  tremor.  I  thought  with  concern  that  he  was 
about  to  go  back  into  the  cholera  atmosphere  of  highest 
intensity ;  but  he  appeared  calm  and  strong  in  spirit,  and,  in 
the  midst  of  pity  for  him,  I  felt  envy,  after  a  sort,  of  his  firm- 
ness and  tranquillity." 

I  cannot  recall  the  slightest  feeling  of  anxiety  on 
my  own  part.  Yet  the  fact  remains  that  not  long 
after  I  left  London  the  visitation  came,  and  the 
deaths  were  for  a  time  over  two  thousand  a  day.  I 
went  northward,  after  leaving  London,  and,  from 
some  chance  of  travel,  I  was  in  the  town  of  South 
Shields,  near  Newcastle  on  Tyne,  on  a  certain  day  in 
August.  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  walked  in  the  narrow 
streets,  "  What  a  place  this  would  be  for  cholera  to 
find  victims ! "  A  year  later  I  read  in  the  of^cial 
record  of  the  ravages  of  the  disease  in  England  that 
the  place  of  greatest  mortality  in  proportion  to  popu- 
lation was  this  town  of  South  Shields,  and  that  the 
day  on  which  the  deaths  rose  to  the  greatest  number 
was  the  day  on  which  I  chanced  to  walk  through  its 
streets. 

During  the  three  years  that  passed  before  my  next 
visit  to  England,  I  had  some  correspondence  with 
Mrs.  Coleridge.     Once  I  wrote  while  on  a  journey  to 


SA/?A    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  in 

the  Northwest.  My  letter  was  of  some  length,  tell- 
ing of  the  new  country  I  was  seeing,  and  speaking 
also  of  matters  of  literature  in  which  I  had  then  inter- 
est. There  came  at  once  a  reply,  fourteen  pages  — 
the  large  letter  sheet  of  those  days,  closely  written. 
Its  arrival  is  a  vivid  remembrance  to  me.  I  read  it 
again  and  again,  struck  always  with  its  wisdom,  its 
felicity  of  expression,  its  keen  and  subtle  criticism  on 
literary  matters.  It  lies  before  me  now  in  its  faded 
pages,  and  I  find  as  I  go  over  it  that  my  judgment  in 
regard  to  it  is  the  same  as  at  my  first  reading.  I  had 
told,  in  my  letter,  of  the  tragic  death  of  a  young  man 
of  excellent  promise  to  whom  I  was  strongly  bound. 
Referring  to  this  she  speaks  of  such  deaths  as  "  an 
evidence  that  here  we  have  no  abiding  city — that  the 
best  estate  of  frail  mortals,  so  frail  as  earthly  beings, 
so  strong  in  the  heavenly  part  of  their  constitution,  is 
when  they  feel  themselves  to  be  strangers  and  pilgrims 
here  below.  What  a  depth,"  she  says,  "  of  consolation 
there  is  in  some  of  those  expressions  in  the  eleventh 
chapter  of  the  Hebrews !  How  they  articulate  the 
voices  of  immortality  within  us,  and  countervail  the 
melancholy  oracle  of  Lucretius  with  their  calm  and 
confident  assurances ! " 

I  give  this  as  showing  what  was  the  supreme  and 
animating  feeling  of  the  writer.  Through  all  the 
intellectual  brightness  of  the  letter,  and  varied  as  are 
its  contents,  there  is  manifest  her  deep  sense  of  reli- 
gion. She  speaks  of  her  weakened  health,  says  she 
cannot  give  a  good  account  of  herself ;  but  there  is  no 


112  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

word  of  murmuring.  At  the  end  she  says  with  what 
seems  the  prompting  of  a  saint-like  thought  for  an- 
other out  of  the  depth  of  acquiescence  in  the  hard 
trial  allotted  for  herself,  "  May  you  long  have  health 
and  strength  to  enjoy  the  infinite  delights  of  litera- 
ture, and  the  loveliness  of  this  bright  breathing  world, 
which  the  poets  teach  us  to  admire,  and  the  Gospel 
makes  us  hope  to  find  again  in  that  unseen  world 
whither  we  are  all  going."  Strange  that  now,  after 
forty-eight  years,  I  can  record  the  fulfilment  of  this 
gracious  desire  for  me. 

I  had  but  one  other  letter  from  her  after  this  lonsf 
one ;  it  showed  increasing  bodily  weakness,  though  the 
same  kind  thought  for  others.  With  the  feeling  I  have 
for  her  memory  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of 
noting  here  that  she  speaks  of  a  letter  of  mine  telling, 
among  other  things,  of  a  winter  visit  to  Niagara  as 
having  quite  brightened  her  invalid  room. 

Carlyle's  "  Life  of  Sterling  "  she  comments  on,  "  Very 
beautiful  and  interesting  as  a  biography,  but  very  pain- 
ful in  its  avowal  of  Pantheism."  She  resents  Carlyle's 
reference  to  her  father,  says  the  chapter  on  him  is  a 
pure  libel.  She  adds,  "  But  my  father's  folly  and  sin 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Pantheist  is  his  firm  adherence  to 
Christianity,  not  only  ideal,  but  historical,  factual,  and 
doctrinal."  She  will  write  ao^ain  if  strength  admits. 
"  If  you  do  not  hear  again,  you  will  understand  that 
strength  has  failed^  She  speaks  of  her  longing  to  see 
again  her  own  native  hills  and  streams — and  then  ex- 
claims, "  O   that  my  remains,  and   those  of  my  dear 


SA/^A    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  1 13 

mother,  could  rest  in  that  dear  Keswick  churchyard 
where  my  Uncle  Southey's  lie,  with  those  hills  around !  " 

I  sailed  for  England  four  months  after  this  letter  was 
written,  having  the  hope  strong  within  me  that  some 
further  personal  intercourse  might  be  gVanted  me. 
Alas !  it  was  not  to  be.  I  heard  in  Liverpool  of  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Coleridge ;  it  had  occurred  while  I  was 
at  sea. 

Sara  Coleridge  w^as,  as  to  her  mental  part,  almost 
the  child  of  Southey.  She  grew  up  under  his  roof  at 
Keswick,  and  drew  in  daily  from  the  outpourings  of  his 
affluent  mind.  His  fine  library  was  open  to  her,  and 
the  example  of  his  life  of  unwearied  industry  as  a  stu- 
dent and  a  writer  was  ever  before  her.  The  In  /adore 
qiiies  of  Southey's  bookplate  was  the  motto  by  which 
her  own  life  was  guided.  And  in  all  matters  of  con- 
duct, and  of  high  endeavour,  he  was  her  loving  and 
unerring  teacher.  She  said  of  him  in  emphatic  words, 
that  he  was  upon  the  whole  the  best  man  she  had  ever 
known.  As  to  her  intellectual  part  she  was  pr^ably 
even  more  indebted  to  Wordsworth,  whose  impressive 
discourse  she  had  constant  opportunities  of  listening 
to  at  Rydal  Mount,  and  at  Greta  Hall,  and  in  rambles, 
in  the  company  of  the  great  poet,  among  the  pioun- 
tains.  With  Dora  Wordsworth,  her  bosom  friend,  she 
grew  up  under  the  influence  and  in  the  companionship 
of  men  of  the  noblest  gifts.  She  showed  in  all  her 
after  life  the  blessinsf  which  had  come  to  her  in  heart 
and  mind  in  the  opportunity  which  had  been  granted 
her.     It  is  said   of  her  that   in  the  serene  and   lofty 


114  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

regions  of  the  spiritual  province  of  human  nature  she 
walked  hand  in  hand  with  her  father ;  her  interests 
were  kindred  with  his  own,  but  in  her  case  there  was 
no  alloy  of  lower  impulse  to  weaken  her  thought. 
Well  does  her  own  daughter  say  of  her :  — 

"  Possessing,  as  she  did,  a  knowledge  of  theology 
rare  in  any  woman  (perhaps  in  any  layman),  she  had 
received  from  heaven  a  still  more  excellent  gift,  even 
the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit." 

But  to  dwell  more  particularly  on  the  early  years  of 
Sara  Coleridge  in  the  house  of  Southey,  one  can 
readily  imagine  what  the  charm  to  him  must  have  been 
of  helping  in  the  development  of  a  mind  so  gifted  as 
that  of  this  fair  young  creature,  who  seemed  to  live 
only  for  intellectual  effort  and  enjoyment.  Under  his 
guidance  she  had  taught  herself  French,  Italian,  Ger- 
man, and  Spanish ;  before  she  was  five  and  twenty  she 
had  made  herself  acquainted  with  the  leading  Greek 
and  Latin  classics.  There  could  have  been  little  op- 
portunity, in  that  far  Cumberland  region,  for  a  young 
woman  to  obtain  anything  equivalent  to  college  train- 
ing. Had  there  been  such  opportunity,  money  would 
have  been  wanting,  and  Southey  had  never  a  year's 
income  in  advance.  The  charge  of  the  three  children 
of  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge, — Hartley,  Derwent,  and 
Sara, — and  of  their  mother,  was,  in  part  at  least,  upon 
Southey  ;  his  reward  came  in  their  unceasing  devotion 
and  affection. 

On  my  first  visit  to  Mrs.  Coleridge  she  referred  with 
much  feeling  to  the  loss  of  her  brother  Hartley ;  he 


SARA    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  11$ 

had  died  in  January  of  that  year.  Tears  filled  her  eyes 
as  she  spoke  of  him.  Though  she  had  been  long  sepa- 
rated from  him,  he  was  the  object  of  her  tenderest  love. 
I  may  note  here  what  I  read  when  her  letters  were  pub- 
lished.   Speaking  of  the  death  of  Hartley,  she  says :  — 

"  Nothing  has  ever  so  shaken  my  hold  upon  earth.  Our 
long  separation  made  me  dwell  the  more  earnestly  on  thoughts 
of  a  reunion  with  him  ;  and  the  whole  of  my  early  life  is  so 
connected  with  him,  he  was  in  my  girlhood  so  deep  a  source 
of  pride  and  pleasure,  and  at  the  same  time  the  cause  of  such 
keen  anguish  and  searching  anxiety,  that  his  departure  brings 
my  own  before  me  more  vividly,  and  with  more  of  reality, 
than  any  other  death  ever  has  done." 

Again  she  writes  :  — 

"  He  was  the  most  attaching  of  men  ;  and  if  tributes  of 
love  and  admiration,  of  deep  regard,  —  in  spite  of  his  sad 
infirmity,  which  did  himself  such  wrong,  —  could  remove  or 
neutralize  sorrow,  my  cup  would  have  lost  its  bitterness. 
Never  was  a  man  more  loved  in  life  or  mourned  in  death." 

The  comfort  and  the  joy  which  Sara  Coleridge 
must  have  been  in  her  girlhood  to  both  her  brothers 
can  well  be  imagined.  I  remember  at  Heath's  Court 
Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  father  of  the  late  Lord  Cole- 
ridge, taking  down  from  his  shelves  "  An  Account  of 
the  Abipones,  an  Equestrian  People  of  Paraguay,"  in 
three  volumes,  octavo,  from  the  Latin  of  Martin  Dob- 
rizhoffer.  He  told  me  that  Hartley  Coleridge  had 
begun  the  translation,  the  money  he  was  to  receive  for 
it  from  Murray  being  needed  for  his  college  expenses. 
He  soon  tired  of  the  work,  however,  and  his  sister, 
then  twenty  years  of  age,  undertook  it,  and  brought  it 


Il6  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

to  completion  —  truly  an  extraordinary  achievement. 
Her  father  said  of  it,  "  My  dear  daughter's  transla- 
tion of  this  book  is  unsurpassed  for  pure  Mother- 
English  by  anything  I  have  read  for  a  long  time." 
And  Charles  Lamb  spoke  of  her  as  "  the  unobtrusive 
quiet  soul,  who  digged  her  noiseless  way  so  persever- 
ingly  through  that  rugged  Paraguay  mine.  How  she 
Dobrizhoffered  it  all  out  puzzles  my  slender  latinity  to 
conjecture." 

But  no  words  can  be  better  than  those  of  Aubrey 
de  Vere  to  tell  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  this  re- 
markable woman.     He  says  :  — 

"  With  all  her  high  literary  powers  she  was  utterly  unlike 
the  mass  of  those  who  are  called  literary  persons.  Few  have 
possessed  such  learning;  and  when  one  calls  to  mind  the 
arduous  character  of  those  studies,  which  seemed  but  a  re- 
freshment to  her  clear  intellect,  like  a  walk  in  mountain  air, 
it  seems  a  marvel  how  a  woman's  faculties  could  have  grap- 
pled with  those  Greek  philosophers  and  Greek  Fathers,  just 
as  no  doubt  it  seemed  a  marvel  when  her  father,  at  the  age 
of  fourteen,  '  woke  the  echoes  '  of  that  famous  old  cloister 
with  declamations  from  Plato  and  Plotinus.  But  in  the 
daughter  as  in  the  father,  the  real  marvel  was  neither  in  the 
accumulated  knowledge  nor  in  the  literary  power ;  it  was 
the  spiritual  mind. 

"  '  The  rapt-one  of  the  Godlike  forehead, 
The  Heaven-eyed  creature,' 

was  Wordsworth's  description  of  Coleridge.  Of  her  some 
one  had  said.  Her  father  had  looked  down  into  her  eyes, 
and  left  in  them  the  light  of  his  own. 

"  When  Henry  Taylor  saw  Sara  Coleridge  first,  as  she  en- 
tered Southey's  study  at  Keswick,  she  seemed  to  him,  as  he 


SAJ?A    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  1 1 7 

told  me,  a  form  of  compacted  light,  not  of  flesh  and  blood,  so 
radiant  was  her  hair,  so  slender  her  form,  so  buoyant  her  step 
and  heaven-like  her  eyes." 

But  beside  the  help  which  Sara  Coleridge  may  have 
given  her  brothers,  it  fell  to  her  to  comfort  and  sup- 
port her  mother  during  that  excellent  lady's  long  years 
of  trial.  A  single  letter  which  the  Memoir  contains 
makes  it  clear  that  the  mother's  reliance,  up  to  a  late 
period  of  life,  was  upon  the  daughter  for  spiritual  help 
and  consolation.  Mrs.  Coleridge,  the  elder,  though 
not  without  ability,  was  never  the  companion  of  her 
husband  in  intellectual  things,  nor  could  she  reach  the 
level  of  either  of  her  gifted  children.  She  was  weak 
of  nerves  and  of  anxious  temperament.  Until  her 
daughter's  marriage  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  the  two 
were  never  separated.  The  mother  was  in  a  fever  of 
anxiety  as  to  the  daughter  always,  as  to  her  health,  and 
as  to  everything  concerning  her.  Strange  had  been 
the  trials  in  the  life  of  the  mother  in  the  alienation  of 
her  husband,  and  his  long  separation  from  her;  for 
the  last  twenty-five  years  of  his  life  they  had  lived 
wholly  apart. 

With  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  genius  was  accom- 
panied by  eccentricity  in  largest  measure.  We  must 
take  a  great  man  as  he  is  given  to  us,  and  in  regard  to 
Coleridge  we  must  follow  his  own  rule  as  applied  to 
art  criticism,  and  not  judge  of  him  by  his  defects. 
Southey  had  upon  him,  in  large  degree,  the  stress  and 
burden  of  his  brother-in-law's  shortcomings.  He  said 
of  him,  "  Coleridge  whenever  he  sees  anything  in  the 


Il8  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

light  of  a  duty  is  unable  to  perform  it."  In  a  further 
moment  of  irritation,  he  said,  even  as  to  his  intellectual 
part,  "  Coleridge  writes  so  that  there  are  but  ten  men 
in  England  who  can  understand  him,  and  I  am  not 
one  of  the  ten."  With  Wordsworth  and  with  his 
sister  Dorothy,  with  Mrs.  Wordsworth  and  her  sister 
Sarah  Hutchinson,  Coleridge's  companionship  was  of 
the  closest.  The  Journals  of  Dorothy  Wordsworth, 
now  given  to  the  world  in  full,  are  the  record  of  this 
extraordinary  fellowship.  Sara  Coleridge  never  failed 
in  filial  devotion  to  her  father,  although  she  was  sepa- 
rated from  him  during  almost  her  whole  life. 

I  never  saw  Hartley  Coleridge,  but  I  seem  almost 
to  have  known  him,  so  much  have  I  heard  of  him,  and 
so  vividly  present  does  he  seem  to  one  in  his  writings, 
fragmentary  though  they  are.  Great  as  the  failure 
of  his  life  was,  the  impression  he  made  on  literature 
was  extraordinary.  Now,  near  fifty  years  after  his 
death,  his  intellectual  gifts  and  the  charm  of  his  per- 
sonal character  are  constantly  referred  to.  Aubrey  de 
Vere,  in  Reminiscences  just  published,  says  of  him, 
"  He  is  said  always  to  have  lived  an  innocent  life, 
though  astray;  and  he  might,  perhaps,  have  been 
more  easily  changed  into  an  angel  than  into  a  simple 
strong  man."  At  my  first  visit  to  the  Lake  country, 
and  at  every  later  visit,  I  heard  words  of  kindness 
spoken  of  him  from  gentlefolk  and  simple.  He  could 
never  have  had  an  enemy.  Wordsworth  himself  spoke 
to  me  of  him  with  tender  regard.  The  great  poet  felt 
for  him  almost  as  a  son,  as  did  Mrs.  Wordsworth;  his 


SARA    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  119 

death  affected  them  deeply.  "  Let  him  lie  by  us," 
was  Wordsworth's  request,  as  arrangement  was  being 
made  for  his  burial  in  the  Grasmere  churchyard. 
Hartley  Coleridge's  one  weakness  was  intemperance. 
Probably  until  he  went  to  Oxford  the  failing  hardly 
showed  itself.  It  is  stated  that  he  was  of  premature 
birth :  perhaps  to  this  fact  his  weakness  of  will  was  in 
some  way  due.  The  undergraduate  life  of  Oxford  of 
eighty  years  ago  presented  great  temptations.  His 
wonderful  gifts  of  intellect,  as  well  as  his  oddity  of 
manner,  made  him  a  favourite  guest  at  "  wine  parties." 
Says  Alexander  Dyce :  — 

"  He  knew  that  he  was  expected  to  talk,  and  talking  was 
his  delight.  Leaning  his  head  on  one  shoulder,  turning  up 
his  dark  bright  eyes,  and  swinging  backward  and  forward 
on  his  chair,  he  would  hold  forth  by  the  hour  (for  no  one 
wished  to  interrupt  him)  on  whatever  subject  might  have 
been  started, — either  of  literature,  politics,  or  religion, — 
with  an  originality  of  thought,  a  force  of  illustration,  and 
a  facility  and  beauty  of  expression  which  I  question  if  any 
man  then  living,  except  his  father,  could  have  surpassed." 

Hartley  Coleridge's  career  at  Oxford  was  distin- 
guished, and  he  won  a  Fellowship  at  Oriel.  At  the 
close  of  his  probationary  year,  he  was  judged  to  have 
forfeited  this  on  the  ground  mainly  of  intemperance. 
Says  Derwent  Coleridge :  — 

"  The  stroke  came  upon  his  father  with  all  the  aggrava- 
tions of  surprise,  as  a  peal  of  thunder  out  of  a  clear  sky. 
I  was  with  him  at  the  time,  and  have  never  seen  any  human 
being,  before  or  since,  so  deeply  afflicted ;  not,  as  he  said, 


I20  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

by  the  temporal  consequences  of  his  son's  misfortune,  heavy 
as  these  were,  but  for  the  moral  offence  which  it  involved." 

Thus  did  what  promised  to  be  a  brilliant  career 
come  to  an  end.  The  thirty  years  that  followed, 
though  blameless  but  for  the  one  infirmity,  were 
years  of  little  connected  literary  achievement. 

"He  lived  "  [as  said  James  Spedding]  "the  life  of  a  soli- 
tary student  by  the  banks  of  Grasmere  and  Rydal ;  depend- 
ent, indeed,  upon  the  help  of  his  relations  for  what  small 
provision  he  needed,  but  requiring  no  more  than  they  could 
cheerfully  supply.  Everywhere  he  was  a  welcome  guest  to 
the  high  and  low,  the  learned  and  the  ignorant.  Here  his 
defects  could  do  least  injury  to  himself  or  others.  His  wan- 
derings were  but  transient  eclipses.  The  shadow  past,  he 
came  forth  as  pure  and  bright  as  before.  Once  when  some 
of  his  friends  thought  of  asking  him  to  visit  them  in  the 
south  of  England,  the  project  being  mentioned  to  Words- 
worth, he  strongly  disapproved  of  it,  '  It  is  far  better  for 
him  to  remain  where  he  is,'  said  he,  'where  everybody  knows 
him,  and  everybody  loves  and  takes  care  of  him.'  " 

It  seems  proper  to  note  here  words  of  Derwent 
Coleridge  in  loving  extenuation  of  Hartley's  failure 
and  fall. 

"  My  brother's  life  at  school  was  so  blameless,  —  he  seemed 
and  was  not  merely  so  simple,  tender-hearted,  and  affectionate, 
but  so  truthful,  dutiful,  and  thoughtful,  —  so  religious  if  not 
devout,  that  if  his  after  years  had  run  in  a  happier  course, 
the  faults  of  his  boyhood  might  well  have  been  overlooked, 
and  nothing  seen  but  that  which  promised  good.  An  eye 
sharpened  for  closer  observation  may,  in  the  retrospect, 
descry  the  shadow  of  a  coming  cloud.  A  certain  infirmity 
of  will — the  specific  evil    of    his    life  —  had  already  shown 


SAJ^A    COLERIDGE  AND   HER   BROTHERS  12 1 

itself.  His  sensibility  was  intense,  and  he  had  not  where- 
withal to  control  it.  He  could  not  open  a  letter  without 
trembling.  He  shrank  from  mental  pain  —  he  was  beyond 
measure  impatient  of  constraint.  He  was  liable  to  parox- 
ysms of  rage,  often  the  disguise  of  pity,  self-accusation,  or 
other  painful  emotion,  —  anger  it  could  hardly  be  called,  — 
during  which  he  bit  his  arm  or  finger  violently.  It  looked 
like  an  organic  defect — a  congenital  imperfection.  I  do  not 
offer  this  as  a  sufficient  explanation.  There  are  mysteries 
in  our  moral  nature  upon  which  we  can  only  pause  and 
doubt." 

I  cannot  but  note  here  a  remarkable  incident  of 
his  childhood  as  showing  what  one  might  almost 
fancy  to  be  the  forbearance  of  a  dumb  animal  in 
regard  to  him.  He  came  in  one  day  with  the  mark 
of  a  horse's  hoof  on  his  pinafore,  and  it  was  found 
on  inquiry  that  he  had  been  pulling  hairs  out  of  a 
horse's  tail ;  it  was  easy  to  imagine  —  indeed,  it  was 
his  father's  firm  belief  —  that  the  animal  had  pushed 
him  back  with  a  gentle  shove. 

Little  need  be  said  of  the  poetry  of  Hartley  Cole- 
ridge ;  it  came  near  to  excellence,  and  but  for  the 
catastrophe  of  his  life  might  have  reached  the  high- 
est level.  His  sonnets  are  probably  nearest  to  those 
of  Wordsworth  of  all  the  moderns.  His  prose  is 
vigorous  and  of  easy  flow;  the  best  of  it  is  to  be 
found  in  his  "  Biographia  Borealis,  or  Lives  of  Dis- 
tinguished Northerns."  I  quote  the  following  from 
the  "Life  of  Lord  Fairfax":  — 

"  Fifty  thousand  subjects  of  one  King  stood  face  to  face 
on  Marston  Moor.     The  numbers  on  each  side  were  not  far 


122  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

unequal,  but  never  were  two  hosts,  speaking  one  language, 
of  more  dissimilar  aspects.  The  Cavaliers  flushed  with  recent 
victory,  identifying  their  quarrel  with  their  honour  and  their 
love,  their  loose  locks  escaping  beneath  their  plumed  helmets, 
glittering  in  all  the  martial  pride  which  makes  the  battle  day 
like  a  pageant  or  a  festival ;  and  prancing  forth  with  all  the 
grace  of  gentle  blood,  as  they  would  make  a  jest  of  death ; 
while  the  spirit-rousing  strains  of  the  trumpets  made  their 
blood  dance  and  their  steeds  prick  up  their  ears.  The  Round- 
heads, arranged  in  thick  dark  masses,  their  steel  caps  and 
high  crown  hats  drawn  close  over  their  brows,  looking  de- 
termination, expressing  with  furrowed  foreheads  and  hard 
closed  lips  the  inly-working  rage  which  was  blown  up  to 
furnace  heat  by  the  extempore  effusions  of  their  preachers, 
and  found  vent  in  the  terrible  denunciations  of  the  Hebrew 
Psalms  and  Prophets.  .  .  .  The  Royalists  regarded  their 
adversaries  with  that  scorn  which  the  gay  and  high-born 
always  feel  or  affect  for  the  precise  and  sour-mannered.  The 
Soldiers  of  the  Covenant  looked  on  their  enemies  as  the  ene- 
mies of  Israel,  and  considered  themselves  as  the  elect  and 
chosen  people  —  a  creed  which  extinguished  fear  and  re- 
morse together.  It  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  there 
were  more  praying  on  one  side  or  swearing  on  the  other, 
or  which,  to  a  truly  Christian  ear,  had  been  the  most  offen- 
sive." 

One  other  extract  I  give  from  its  being  of  interest 

as  a  condemnation,   sixty   years  beforehand,    of   the 

Revised  Version.  The  passage  is  in  the  "  Life  of 
Dr.  Jno.  Fothergill." 

"  We  doubt  whether  any  new  translation,  however  learned, 
exact,  or  truly  orthodox  will  ever  appear  to  English  Christians 
to  be  the  real  Bible.  The  language  of  the  Authorized  Version 
is  the  perfection  of  English,  and  it  can  never  be  written  again, 
for  the  language  of  prose  is  one  of  the  few  things  in  which 


SARA    COLERIDGE  AND   HER  BROTHERS  1 23 

the  English  have  really  degenerated.     Our  tongue  has  lost 
its  holiness." 

I  came  to  know  the  Rev.  Derwent  Coleridge 
through  the  introduction  of  his  sister  immediately 
after  my  first  visit  to  her.  I  was  very  kindly  received, 
in  part  from  the  warm  feeling  of  both  the  brother  and 
the  sister  for  Henry  Reed.  Even  by  letter  the  sweet 
nature  and  refined  mind  of  the  American  professor 
had  become  abundantly  manifest,  and  their  regard  for 
him  was  as  though  he  was  of  their  own  blood.  Der- 
went Coleridge  was  then  the  Principal  of  St.  Mark's 
College,  Chelsea,  a  training  school  for  youths  who 
looked  to  become  teachers,  or  who  expected  to  pre- 
pare themselves  for  Holy  Orders.  I  spent  a  delightful 
Sunday  there.  The  chapel  service  was  choral,  Mr. 
Helmore,  the  chief  authority  on  Plain  Song,  being 
the  leader.  It  was  the  period  when  interest  in  choral 
music  had  just  been  awakened.  Mr.  Coleridge  in- 
toned the  service  and  preached  the  sermon.  After- 
wards I  walked  with  him  in  the  college  grounds  — 
the  flowers  and  shrubbery  being  in  all  their  June 
freshness  —  and  we  had  full  and  pleasant  talk.  I  felt 
at  once  his  intellectual  brightness,  and  perceived  how 
wide  had  been  his  range  of  reading  and  of  study. 
His  large  dark  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me  as  we  talked, 
seeming  to  look  me  through.  Very  soon  I  perceived 
how  kind  he  was  of  heart.  At  luncheon  I  first  met 
Mrs.  Derwent  Coleridge  —  a  beautiful  woman  of  much 
dignity  and  grace  of  manner.  In  the  drawing-room 
afterward,  Mr.  Coleridge  placing  his  hands  on  either 


124  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE   COLERIDGES 

side  of  the  head  of  his  daughter  Christabel,  then  about 
eight  years  old,  said,  "  This  is  the  best  representative 
of  S.  T.  C.  I  can  show  you."  I  saw  the  full  eyes  of 
the  poet  and  something  of  the  dreamy  look  of  genius. 
Miss  Christabel  Coleridge,  I  must  mention,  grew  up 
to  be  a  writer  of  books,  novels,  and  short  stories  of 
excellent  merit. 

I  found  myself  drawing  close  to  Derwent  Cole- 
ridge ;  his  affectionate  nature  was  manifest  to  me  from 
the  first.  The  day  which  I  passed  with  him  so  happily 
proved  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  to  last  until  his 
death,  at  the  end  of  nearly  thirty  years.  For  twenty- 
five  years  I  had  correspondence  with  him ;  he  had  the 
gift  of  letter  writing  common  to  his  race.  And  in  my 
frequent  visits  to  England  I  saw  him  nearly  always. 
I  walked  with  him  for  days  in  the  Lake  country ;  I 
visited  Rydal  Mount  with  him  after  Wordsworth's 
death ;  and  I  made  visits  with  him  in  Devonshire.  Of 
our  talk  on  that  first  day  I  remember  that  he  spoke 
of  the  group  of  men  who  had  been  around  him  at 
Cambridge  —  Praed  (of  whom  he  was  the  biographer), 
Moultrie,  also  a  poet  (who  lived  to  advanced  age), 
Macaulay,  Chauncey  Hare  Townshend,  and  Henry 
Nelson  Coleridge.  With  all  of  these  his  intimacy 
had  continued  of  the  closest.  He  spoke  with  great 
respect  of  our  Washington  Allston,  and  repeated  a 
remark  of  Allston's  on  his  death-bed,  concerning 
Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  "  He  was  the  greatest 
man  I  ever  knew,  and  more  sinned  against  than  sin- 
nine."     I  record  this  because  of  what   I  know  to  have 


SARA    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  1 25 

been  a  saying  of  Wordsworth's,  "  I  have  known  many- 
remarkable  men,  but  the  most  wonderful  man  I  ever 
knew  was  Coleridge."  I  feel  compelled  to  add,  how- 
ever, the  following  as  a  deliverance  of  Wordsworth's, 
in  a  moment,  let  us  presume,  of  impatience,  at  a  late 
period  of  Coleridge's  life.  Wordsworth  with  Rogers 
had  spent  an  evening  with  Coleridge  at  Highgate. 
As  the  two  poets  walked  away  together  —  "  I  did  not 
altogether  understand  the  latter  part  of  what  Cole- 
ridge said,"  was  the  cautious  remark  of  Rogers.  "  I 
did  not  understand  any  of  it,"  was  Wordsworth's  hasty 
reply.  "  No  more  did  I !  "  exclaimed  Rogers,  doubt- 
less much  relieved. 

Three  years  from  the  date  of  my  first  visit  to  Der- 
went  Coleridge  I  was  again  in  England.  I  very  soon 
made  my  way  to  him  at  Chelsea,  and  was  warmly 
welcomed.  He  gave  me  the  details  of  his  sister's 
illness  and  of  her  then  very  recent  death.  Her  disease 
was  cancer.  Two  years  before  her  medical  attendant 
had  become  aware  of  its  existence  and  saw  how  great 
was  her  danger,  Hope  for  her,  however,  was  cher- 
ished; but  for  the  last  few  months  the  progress  of 
the  disease  was  rapid.  She  bore  her  sufferings  with 
remarkable  fortitude.  There  was  everything  they 
could  desire  as  to  her  frame  of  mind ;  there  was  stoi- 
cism—  rather  religious  resignation  —  which  was  re- 
markable. Her  own  words  had  been,  in  a  letter  written 
a  few  months  before  her  death :  "  My  great  endeavour 
is  not  to  foreshape  the  future  in  particulars,  but  know- 
ing that  my  strength    always  has  been   equal  to  my 


126  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

day,  when  the  day  is  come,  to  feel  that  it  will  be  so 
on  to  the  end,  come  what  may,  and  that  all  things, 
except  a  reproaching  conscience,  are  '  less  dreadful ' 
than  they  seem."  She  quoted  then  from  the  "  White 
Doe  of  Rylstone,"  — 

"  Espouse  thy  doom  at  once,  and  cleave 
To  fortitude  without  reprieve," 

adding,  "Wordsworth  was  more  to  my  opening  mind 
in  the  way  of  religious  consolation  than  all  books  put 
together  except  the  Bible." 

Mr.   Coleridge  continued,   in    regard  to   his   sister. 
She  had  gone  on  with  her  literary  labours  to  the  last, 
and  was  able  to  complete  the  preface  to  a  forthcoming 
edition  of  her  father's  poems  in  an  admirable  way.     It 
was  wonderful  that  one  so  much  the  victim  of  disease 
could  have  had  such  clearness  of  mind.     My  friend 
showed  deep  feeling  as  he  spoke  of  his  own  love  for 
his  sister;  she  had  been  his  companion  in  childhood; 
he  had  been  her  tutor,  had  taught  her  Latin;    they 
had  wandered   together  over  the  beautiful   Cumber- 
land region ;  he  had  carried  her  on  his  back  over  the 
streams.     He  turned  his  face  from  me,  he  could  say 
no  more.     My  talk  with  him  had  been  in  his  study. 
He  took  me  into  the  drawing-room  to  see  Mrs.  Cole- 
ridge and  his  niece.  Miss  Edith  Coleridge,  the  daugh- 
ter   of    Sara    Coleridge,    the    tones    of   whose    voice 
brought   her   mother  vividly  to  my  mind.     I    had    a 
most  pleasant  interview  with  them  all ;  their  manner 
was  natural,  though  grave ;  they  seemed  to  look  upon 


SAJ^A    COLERIDGE  AND  HER   BROTHERS  127 

me  as  one  who  had  a  right  to  share  with  them  their 
sorrow. 

Mr.  Coleridge  accompanied  me  on  my  return  to 
London,  a  walk  of  two  and  a  half  miles.  We  talked 
of  poetry — Mrs.  Browning's,  Mr.  Coleridge  said,  with 
all  its  beauty,  was  often  imperfect,  showed  want  of 
finish.  Mr.  Browning's,  though  very  powerful,  was 
rugged  and  rough  ;  neither  were  likely  to  live,  because 
of  their  defects.  I  may  add  here  what  I  know  to  have 
been  a  remark  of  Tennyson's.  "  Browning  would  do 
well  to  add  something  of  beauty  to  the  great  things 
he  gives  to  the  world."  Mr.  Coleridge  spoke  of  the 
high  art  and  finish  of  Tennyson's  poetry  and  the 
splendour  of  it,  spite  of  the  evidence  everywhere  of 
great  elaboration.  His  brother  Hartley's  poems  he 
thought  the  perfection  of  spontaneity.  As  we  walked 
on,  he  said  to  me,  "  You  ought  to  see  Mr.  Rogers,"  — 
then,  after  reflecting  a  moment,  he  added,  "  I  am  going 
to  breakfast  with  him  to-morrow,  and  if  you  will  call 
at  twelve  at  his  house,  St.  James's  Place,  I  think  I  shall 
be  able  to  introduce  you  to  him.  You  must  take 
your  chance,"  he  said,  "for  he  is  in  extreme  old  age 
—  eighty-eight  —  and  may  not  be  well  enough  to  see 
you."  I  thanked  him,  and  said  I  was  quite  willing  to 
take  the  risk.  He  said  Rogers  was  perhaps  the  only 
man  in  London  who  had  seen  Garrick  act.  He  might 
have  added  that  Rogers  could  have  talked  with  Johnson, 
for  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  had  knocked  at  Johnson's 
door,  Bolt  Court,  but,  his  courage  failing  him,  he  ran 
away  before  it  was  opened.     Mr.  Coleridge  spoke  also 


128  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

of  Mr.  Henry  Crabb  Robinson  as  a  notable  person 
whom  I  ought  to  see  —  a  Hnk  between  the  present 
generation  and  the  past  (I  did  see  Mr.  Robinson 
both  at  his  house  in  London  and  some  years  after- 
ward in  the  Lake  Region).  We  stopped  at  Mr. 
Moxon's,  to  whom  Mr.  Coleridge  introduced  me,  — 
the  publisher  of  the  modern  poets, — himself,  too,  a 
poet.  He  owed  his  position  in  life  to  Mr.  Rogers, 
who  lent  him  money  and  enabled  him  to  advance 
himself  in  the  world. 

I  drove  the  next  day  to  St.  James's  Place,  according 
to  appointment.  Mr,  Coleridge  came  to  me  at  once 
and  said  he  had  prepared  the  way  for  me  with  Mr. 
Rogers,  and  that  I  must  come  in.  I  was  ushered  into 
the  famous  breakfast  room,  where  I  found  the  venerable 
man  seated  in  a  large  armchair,  dressed  in  black  and 
wearing  a  black  cap  —  his  features  fine,  his  look  placid, 
but  his  face  very  pale.  His  pallor,  indeed,  was  what 
first  struck  me.  He  welcomed  me  and  said  at  once, 
"  You  knew  my  friend  Mr.  Wordsworth."  Mr.  Cole- 
ridge had  told  him  this.  I  sat  near  him  and  we  had  a 
few  minutes'  talk.  But  the  appearance  of  great  age 
awes  one  almost  as  much  as  great  reputation.  Mrs. 
Derwent  Coleridge  and  her  niece,  Miss  Edith,  were 
there,  and  another  lady  and  Lord  Glenelg.  Mr.  Cole- 
ridge took  me  round  the  long  room  to  see  the  pictures, 
—  Raphael  and  Rembrandt,  Rubens  and  the  Poussins 
and  Claude,  the  famous  Giotto,  two  heads  taken 
from  the  burial  of  St.  John  —  all  most  interesting.  It 
was  a  brief  pleasure.     When  I  was  taking  leave  of  Mr. 


SARA    COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  129 

Rogers,  he  held  my  hand,  evidently  wishing  to  say 
something.  He  rang  for  his  attendant.  "  Edward," 
said  he,  "  when  can  this  gentleman  breakfast  with 
me } "  "  There  is  no  day  till  Friday,"  said  Edward. 
Then  taking  the  book  in  which  engagements  were 
noted,  Edward  corrected  himself.  "  Thursday  there 
is,  sir."  "  Put  him  down  for  Thursday,"  said  Mr. 
Rogers.  Then  to  me.  "  You'll  breakfast  with  me  on 
Thursday."  I  bowed  my  acknowledsfments  and  took 
my  leave. 

A  further  instance  of  Mr.  Coleridge's  kindness  in 
giving  me  sight  of  a  man  of  distinction  in  letters  was 
upon  my  visit  to  England  in  1857,  when  ^^  invited  me 
to  meet  Macaulay.  I  had  declined  going  to  dinner  as 
I  knew  the  party  had  been  made  up  some  time  before 
I  reached  London.  I  accepted  for  nine  o'clock. 
When  I  reached  Chelsea  I  found  the  ladies  already  in 
the  drawing-room.  Mrs.  Coleridge  told  me  to  go  at 
once  to  the  dining  room  —  the  servant  would  announce 
me.  Accordingly  I  was  ushered  in,  was  warmly  re- 
ceived bv  Mr.  Coleridsie,  who  made  room  for  me  next 
to  himself.  On  his  left  sat  the  great  man.  I  looked 
with  keen  interest  on  the  pale  but  handsome  counte- 
nance. Age  was  beginning,  prematurely,  to  give  signs 
of  its  approach,  though  he  was  but  fifty-seven ;  his  hair 
was  grey,  his  complexion  pallid.  But  the  flash  of  the 
eye,  the  rapid  change  of  expression,  the  vivacity,  the 
quick  movement  of  the  head  —  all  showed  a  keenness 
of  the  mental  faculties  as  yet  unimpaired. 

The  talk  at  first  was  about  XoUekens  —  some  details 


I30  WORDSWORTH  AND  THE  COLERIDGES 

as  to  his  parsimony  Macaulay  gave.  Then  he  came 
to  speak  of  art  in  general ;  he  did  not  consider  the 
faculty  for  it  a  high  gift  of  mind.  He  told  of  Francis 
Grant,  an  eminent  portrait  painter  to  whom  Sir 
George  Cornewall  Lewis  had  lately  been  sitting.  The 
artist,  knowing  Lewis  was  an  author,  thought  he  ought 
to  make  acquaintance  with  his  books  that  he  might 
talk  with  him  about  them.  Accordingly  he  read  "  The 
Monk."  Lewis,  in  order  to  show  him  it  was  quite  im- 
possible he  could  have  written  the  novel  in  question, 
said  it  appeared  two  years  before  he  was  born.  All 
who  know  the  author  of  the  "  Credibility  of  Early  Ro- 
man History  "  would  appreciate  his  appealing  to  dates 
to  show  he  was  not  also  the  author  of  "  The  Monk." 
Music,  Macaulay  also  maintained,  was  an  art  which  it 
required  no  high  mental  power  to  master ;  he  could 
conceive  of  a  great  musician  and  composer  being  a 
dull  man.  Mozart,  the  Raphael  of  music,  he  believed 
was  not  in  other  ways  remarkable ;  he  was  a  wonderful 
performer  at  six  years  old.  "  Now,"  said  Macaulay, 
"  we  cannot  conceive  of  any  one  being  a  great  poet  at 
the  age  of  six  —  a  Shakespeare,  for  instance."  Some 
one  said,  "  But  we  know  very  little  about  Mozart." 

The  talk  somehow  turned  to  Homer,  whether  or  no 
the  Homeric  poems  were  the  product  of  one  mind. 
Macaulay  maintained  they  were;  it  was  inconceiv- 
able that  there  could  have  been  at  the  Homeric 
period  more  than  one  poet  equal  to  the  production 
of  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the  "  Odyssey."  He  considered 
there  had  been  six  great  poets,  —  Homer,  Shakespeare, 


SARA   COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  13 1 

Dante,  Milton,  Sophocles,  and  ^^schylus.  Appearing, 
as  these  had,  at  long  intervals  of  time,  could  it  be 
supposed  that  at  the  Homeric  age  there  was  more 
than  one  with  a  great  endowment  of  "  the  vision  and 
the  faculty  divine  ?  "  Then  as  to  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the 
"Odyssey"  being  both  the  production  of  Homer  — 
the  first  being  admitted  to  be,  that  the  other  was 
seemed  to  follow  as  a  matter  of  course ;  it  was  the 
test  of  Paley  over  again  —  the  finding  the  watch  and 
the  presumption  from  it  of  a  maker ;  and  in  this  case 
there  was  the  watchmaker's  shop  close  by.  He  urged, 
too,  that  Homer  was  the  only  great  poet  who  did  not, 
in  narrating  past  events,  use  the  present  tense  — 
speak  of  them  as  happening  at  the  moment.  He 
quoted  a  long  passage  from  "  Paradise  Lost,"  to  show 
how  Milton  would  fall  into  the  present  tense  having 
begun  in  the  past.  The  fact  that,  throughout  the 
many  thousand  lines  of  Homer,  no  instance  of  the 
sort  could  be  found,  seemed  to  make  it  clear  that 
but  one  person  produced  them.  Other  quotations 
Macaulay  made  from  Burns  and  from  old  ballads  — 
all  showing  his  wonderful  memory.  The  full  flow  of 
the  great  man's  talk  was  sometimes  checked  by  the 
wish  of  others  at  the  table  to  be  heard.  xAmong  the 
persons  present  were  Blore,  the  architect  of  Abbots- 
ford  (a  friend  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's),  Mr.  Helmore, 
the  writer  on  Plain  Song,  and  Mr.  Herbert  Cole- 
ridge, son  of  Sara  Coleridge,  a  young  man  of  brilliant 
promise.  The  year  after  his  mother's  death  he  had 
won  a  double  First  Class  at  Oxford.     Macaulay  and 


132  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

he  had  the  discussion  about  Homer  chiefly  to  them- 
selves. 

Macaulay  declined  returning  to  the  drawing-room ; 
his  carriage  was  in  waiting;  he  was  afraid  to  make 
the  exertion  of  going  again  upstairs.  A  shortness  of 
breath  troubled  him.  I  will  add,  it  was  in  the  follow- 
ing year  he  was  made  a  peer;  and  in  the  year  after- 
ward, 1859,  ^^  died.  A  saying  of  his,  perhaps  at 
the  dinner  table,  reported  by  Mr.  Coleridge,  was  that 
what  troubled  us  most  in  life  were  trifles  —  insienifi- 
cant  things.  "  If  a  hundred  megatheriums  were  let 
loose  on  the  world,  in  twenty-four  hours  they  would 
all  be  in  museums." 

I  put  with  this  slight  record  of  a  meeting  with 
Macaulay  the  following  note  of  Hawthorne's  sight  of 
the  same  remarkable  man  in  1856,  a  year  previous 
to  my  interview.  At  a  breakfast  given  by  Monckton 
Milnes,  Hawthorne,  who  had  taken  in  Mrs.  Brownins:, 
says  he  had  been  too  much  engaged  in  talk  with  her 
to  attend  much  to  what  was  going  on  elsewhere :  — 

"  But,"  he  adds,  "  all  through  breakfast  I  had  been  more 
and  more  impressed  by  the  aspect  of  one  of  the  guests  sit- 
ting next  to  Milnes.  He  was  a  man  of  large  presence, 
grey  haired,  but  scarcely  as  yet  aged ;  and  his  face  had  a 
remarkable  intelligence,  not  vivid  nor  sparkling,  but  con- 
joined with  great  quietude,  and  if  it  gleamed  or  brightened 
at  one  time  more  than  another,  it  was  like  the  sheen  over  a 
broad  surface  at  sea.  There  was  a  somewhat  careless  self- 
possession,  large  and  broad  enough  to  be  called  dignity ;  and 
the  more  I  looked  at  him,  the  more  I  knew  that  he  was  a  dis- 
tinguished personage  and  wondered  who.     He  might  have 


SARA   COLERIDGE  AiYD   HER   BROTHERS  133 

been  a  Minister  of  State ;  only  there  is  not  one  of  them  who 
has  any  right  to  such  a  face  and  presence.  At  last — I  do 
not  know  how  the  conviction  came  —  but  I  became  aware 
that  it  was  Macaulay,  and  began  to  see  some  slight  resem- 
blances to  his  portraits.  As  soon  as  I  knew  him  I  began  to 
listen  to  his  conversation,  but  he  did  not  talk  a  great  deal  — 
contrary  to  his  usual  custom ;  for  I  am  told  he  is  apt  to 
engross  all  the  talk  to  himself.  Mr.  Ticknor  and  Mr.  Pal- 
frey were  among  his  auditors  and  interlocutors,  and  as  the 
conversation  seemed  to  turn  much  on  American  subjects,  he 
could  not  well  have  assumed  to  talk  them  down.  I  am  glad 
to  have  seen  him  —  a  face  fit  for  a  scholar,  a  man  of  the  world, 
a  cultivated  intelligence." 

Derwent  Coleridge  had  something  of  his  father's 
power  of  continuous  and  most  impressive  discourse 
on  questions  of  high  import.  I  Hstened  again  arrd 
again  to  deliverances  which  were  revelations  to  me,  as 
by  a  sudden  flash,  of  the  departed  elo(juence.  I  would 
fain  have  made  record  at  once  of  what  seemed  to  me 
expressions  of  subtle  and  ingenious  thought.  Alas  ! 
the  effort  was  beyond  me. 

I  remember  Mrs.  Derwent  Coleridge's  telling  me  of 
her  recollections  of  her  father-in-law  in  her  early  mar- 
ried life.  She  listened  with  great  wonder,  she  said,  to 
the  flow  of  his  discourse ;  there  was  no  hesitation  or 
pause  —  on  and  on  it  went.  The  bedroom  candles 
would  be  brought  in  and  placed  on  a  table  near  the 
door  of  the  drawing-room.  Coleridge  would  move 
slowly  across  the  room,  continuing  his  discourse  the 
while,  continuing  it  as  he  went  through  the  hall  to  the 
staircase,  continuing  it  as  he  slowly  mounted  the  stairs, 
until  his  voice  was  lost  in  the   distance.     i\Irs.  Cole- 


134  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

ridofe  said  also  that  it  was  her  wish  and  that  of  Mr. 
Coleridge,  soon  after  their  marriage,  that  their  father 
should  come  to  live  with  them.  This  was  proposed 
to  him  and  he  gave  consent,  but  when  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gillman  heard  of  the  matter  they  said  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  them  to  let  him  go.  Wherever  he  went, 
they  would  have  to  go  too :  they  could  not  be  sepa- 
rated from  him. 

Well  does  Ernest  Coleridge,  the  son  of  Derwent 
and  grandson  of  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  say  of  this 
wonderful  devotion  of  the  Gillmans :  — 

"  With  Coleridge's  name  and  memory  must  ever  be  associ- 
ated the  names  of  James  and  Anne  Gillman.  It  was  beneath 
the  shelter  of  their  friendly  roof  that  he  spent  the  last  eighteen 
years  of  his  life,  and  it  was  to  their  wise  and  loving  care  that 
the  comparative  fruitfulness  and  well-being  of  those  years 
was  due.  They  thought  themselves  honoured  by  his  pres- 
ence, and  he  repaid  their  devotion  with  unbounded  love  and 
gratitude.  Friendship  and  loving  kindness  followed  Cole- 
ridge all  the  days  of  his  life.  What  did  he  not  owe  to  Poole, 
to  Southey,  for  his  noble  protection  of  his  family ;  to  the  Mor- 
gans for  their  long-tried  faithfulness  and  devotion  to  himself .'' 
But  to  the  Gillmans  he  owed  the  *  crown  of  his  cup  and  gar- 
nish of  his  dish,'  a  welcome  which  lasted  till  the  day  of  his 
death.  Doubtless  there  were  chords  in  his  nature  which 
were  struck  for  the  first  time  by  these  good  people,  and  in 
their  presence,  and  by  their  help  he  was  a  new  man.  But, 
for  all  that,  their  patience  must  have  been  inexhaustible,  their 
loyalty  unimpeachable,  their  love  indestructible.  Such  friend- 
ship is  rare  and  beautiful  and  merits  a  most  honourable  re- 
membrance." 

Ernest  Hartley  Coleridge,  who  pays  this  noble  trib- 
ute to   the  Gillmans,  has  given   to   the  world  within 


SARA   COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  135 

the  last  few  years  the  Letters  of  his  grandfather,  and 
has  so  done  his  work  as  distinctly  to  raise  one's  esti- 
mate of  the  great  poet. 

I  am  glad  to  note  here  the  following  which  I  find 
in  the  Life  of  Tennyson. 

"  Arthur  Hallam,  after  visiting  Coleridge  at  High- 
gate  in  1830,  wrote  :  — 

'  Meth®ught  I  saw  a  face  whose  every  line 
Wore  the  pale  cast  of  thought,  a  good  old  man 
Most  eloquent,  who  spoke  of  things  divine. 
Around  him  youths  were  gathered,  who  did  scan 
His  countenance  so  grand,  and  drank  ^ 

The  sweet  sad  tears  of  wisdom.'  " 

Withdrawn  as  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  was,  dur- 
ing almost  all  his  married  life,  from  care  of  his  fam- 
ily, his  spirit  seemed  nevertheless  to  overshadow 
them ;  the  three  children  were  bound  together  by 
the  closest  ties,  and  were  at  one  with  each  other 
in  their  feeling  for  their  father.  The  household  life 
of  Derwent  Coleridge  I  looked  upon  again  and 
again  for  five  and  twenty  years.  It  was  a  home  of 
peculiar  intellectual  brightness.  Books  were  every- 
where, for  Mr.  Coleridge's  library  was  of  eight  thou- 
sand volumes,  and  he  read  in  all  languages.  After 
twenty-three  years  of  service  as  Principal  of  St. 
Mark's  College,  the  time  for  retirement  had  come ; 
his  labour  had  been  great,  and  it  had  borne  abun- 
dant fruit,  but  rest  was  needed.  He  accepted  the 
living  of  Hanwell,  a  village  about  seven  miles 
from    Paddington,    offered    him    by    the     Bishop    of 


136  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

London.     The  rectory,  a  spacious,  rambling  building, 
ivy-covered,  with  a  beautiful  lawn  and  garden,  became 
his    home   for  sixteen  years.     The    parish  work  was 
heavy,    but   the    ladies    of    his    family,    among   them 
Miss  Edith    Coleridge,  the   daughter   of    Sara    Cole- 
ridge, were  efficient  helpers.     But  a  love  of  teaching 
was  strong  with  Derwent  Coleridge,  and  at  the  sug- 
gestion of   the    Rev.  Dr.  Coit,  Rector   of    St.  Paul's 
School,    Concord,   he  consented   to    receive  into   his 
family   a   few   American   pupils.      Four   or    five    St. 
Paul's  boys  came  to  him  in  this  way  as  a  beginning. 
One  of  them,  Mr.  Augustus  M.  Swift,  paid  a  noble 
tribute  to  his  "dear  master"  in  an  address  delivered 
before  St.  Paul's  School  in   1880.     In  it  he  says:  "I 
shall  always  count  among  the  greatest  blessings  and 
happiest  chances  of  my  life  my  becoming  a  member 
of  the  family  at  Hanwell  Rectory."     Mr.  Coleridge's 
drawing  toward   America  was  gratified   by  receiving 
in  succession  under  his  roof  ten  or  twelve  American 
youths.     "  We  were  received,"  says  Mr.  Swift,  "  almost 
as  sons  into  one  of  the  most  intellectual  and  delight- 
ful  homes  in  England."     They  were  hardly  pupils; 
Mr.  Coleridge  was  to  them  as  a   father  and   friend. 
His   talk  with    them  at   his    table  and    in    his  walks 
with    them  was  in  itself  instruction.     The  extent  of 
his    knowledge,    his    amazing    hnguistic    attainments, 
and    his    delight    in    giving   forth    his    acquirements 
made    him  an  incomparable  instructor.     Dean  Stan- 
ley said  once  at  a  garden    party  at   Fulham  Palace, 
"  You  young  Yankees  may  not  realize  that  you  are 


SARA   COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  137 

reading  with  the  greatest  master  of  language  in  Eng- 
land." The  refining  influence  of  the  ladies  of  the 
household  was  no  small  part  of  the  good  which  came 
to  these  youths.  Mr.  Swift  tells  of  his  having  gone 
to  Miss  Edith  Coleridge  for  help  over  more  than 
one  difificult  passage  in  Plato.  Mrs.  Coleridge,  with 
her  native  grace  and  dignity,  could  further  her  hus- 
band in  every  way  in  his  work  of  training.  It  is  a 
satisfaction  to  me  to  record  her  saying  to  me,  in 
speaking  of  these  youths,  that  their  charge  of  them 
had  brought  them  no  anxiety.  "  We  could  hardly," 
she  said,  "  have  admitted  to  our  family  life  English 
young  men  of  the  same  age."  The  gentle  and  cour- 
teous ways  of  the  American  youths  made  them 
agreeable  inmates  always.  They  were  constant  in 
their  devotion  to  Mr.  Coleridge,  were  eager  to  do 
small  services  for  him,  to  see  that  his  hat  and  his 
coat  were  in  proper  trim  when  he  went  out.  They 
were  all  delighted  to  walk  with  him,  and  to  listen 
to  his  talk.  In  the  drawing-room  and  at  the  table 
they  were  refined  and  considerate.  There  is,  per- 
haps, more  of  the  sense  of  companionship  between 
young  men  and  their  elders  in  America  than  in. 
England. 

I  can  scarcely  refer  much  in  this  paper  to  letters 
I  received  from  Derwent  Coleridge  during  a  long 
course  of  years.  In  one  of  them,  of  the  date  of  1874, 
he  said  finely,  "As  we  grow  old  we  get  to  be  more 
and  more  content  with  home  comforts,  the  family 
circle,  the  fireside,  the  returns  of  food  and  rest,  and,. 


138  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

in  my  case,  books,  —  the  only  earthly  pursuit  for 
which  I  should  desire  the  assurance  of  long  life." 
He  lived  but  six  years  after  thus  writing,  dying  in 
1880.  He  was  born,  as  Macaulay  was,  with  the 
century.  One  further  extract  I  will  give  as  it  refers 
to  the  dear  friend  to  whom  I  owed  my  introduction 
to  Sara  and  to  Derwent  Coleridge  as  also  to  Words- 
worth. The  awful  catastrophe  of  the  loss  of  the 
Arctic,  occurring  though  it  did  a  lifetime  since, 
awakens  the  keenest  sorrow  in  remembrance  even 
now.     Derwent  Coleridge  wrote  to  me :  — 

"  You  will  know  how  Professor  Reed  has  been  mourned 
by  all  who  knew  him  in  this  country  to  which  he  did  honour, 
as  assuredly  he  did  to  his  own ;  he  honoured  us,  I  speak 
advisedly,  by  his  esteem  and  regard.  He  was  a  golden  link 
between  us.  His  knowledge  and  fine  appreciation  of  our 
literature  (I  speak  of  our  modern  literature,  for  our  elder 
worthies  of  course  we  share  in  common)  joined  to  his  very 
attractive  personal  qualities,  made  him,  as  it  were,  one  of 
ourselves.  Yet  he  was  every  inch  an  American.  To  me,  in 
particular,  his  loss  is  irreparable.  Yet,  while  I  say  this,  I  do 
not  forget  that  I  have  other  friends  across  the  Atlantic  whom 
I  shall  henceforward  value  more  than  ever  —  for  his  sake  as 
well  as  for  their  own." 

I  add  here  an  extract  from  a  letter  of  Thackeray  to 
the  late  William  B.  Reed,  on  the  tidings  of  the  awful 
shipwreck  reaching  England :  — 

"  I  have  kept  back  writing,  knowing  the  powerlessness  of 
consolation,  and  having  I  don't  know  what  vague  hopes  that 
your  brother  and  Miss  Bronson  might  have  been  spared. 
That  ghastly  struggle   over,  who  would  pity  any  man  that 


SARA    COLERIDGE  A^>'D   HER   BROTHERS  139 

departs  ?  It  is  the  survavors  one  commiserates,  of  such  a 
good,  pious,  tender-hearted  man  as  he  seemed  whom  God 
Almighty  has  just  called  back  to  Himself.  He  seemed  to 
me  to  have  all  the  sweet  domestic  virtues,  which  make  the 
pang  of  parting  only  the  more  cruel  to  those  who  are  left 
behind  ;  but  that  loss  what  a  gain  to  him  !  A  just  man,  sum- 
moned by  God,  for  what  purpose  can  he  go  but  to  meet  the 
Divine  Love  and  Goodness  ?  I  never  think  about  deploring 
such ;  and  as  you  and  I  send  for  our  children,  meaning  them 
only  love  and  kindness,  how  much  more  Pater  Noster  ?  So  we 
say,  and  weep  the  beloved  ones,  whom  we  lose  all  the  same,  with 
the  natural  selfish  sorrow.  I  remember  quite  well  my  visit  to 
your  brother ;  the  pictures  in  his  room  which  made  me  see  which 
way  his  thoughts  lay ;  his  sweet  melancholy  pious  manner. 
That  day  I  saw  them  here  in  Dover  Street,  I  don't  know 
whether  I  told  them,  but  I  felt  at  the  time  that  to  hear  their 
very  accents  affected  me  somehow;  they  were  just  enough 
American  to  be  national ;  and  where  shall  I  ever  hear  voices 
in  the  world  that  have  spoken  more  kindly  to  me.-*  It  was 
like  being  in  your  grave,  calm,  kind,  old  Philadelphia  over 
again,  and  behold  !  now  they  are  to  be  heard  no  more  ! 

"  I  only  saw  your  brother  once  in  London  ...  I  believe 
I  said  I  should  like  to  be  going  with  him  in  the  Arctic,  and 
we  parted  with  a  great  deal  of  kindness,  please  God,  and 
friendly  talk  of  a  future  meeting.  May  it  happen  one  day,  for 
I  feel  sure  he  was  a  just  man." 

There  is,  indeed,  peculiar  fitness  in  the  commemo- 
ration of  Henry  Reed  in  a  paper  which  seeks  to  do 
honour  to  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  and  his  children. 
Had  Professor  Reed  been  brother  in  blood  of  Sara 
Coleridge,  there  could  not  have  been  more  of  sympathy 
with  her  in  mind  and  heart.  The  "  sweet  domestic 
virtues,"  to  use  Thackeray's  words,  were  characteristic 
of  both.     With  both  study,  intellectual  effort,  was  the 


I40  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

law  of  their  being,  and  with  both  there  was  the  keenest 
desire  to  quicken  the  interest  of  others  in  hterature, 
and  to  raise  the  thoughts    of  men  to  noble  themes. 
Henry    Reed    was   acquiring   always,   and  was   eager 
always  to  impart  knowledge.     He  would  tell  with  fine 
animation  of  some  gem  of  literature  he  had  lighted 
upon,  seeking  to  convey  to  another  the  pleasure  he 
himself  felt  in  the  new  acquisition.     With  his  intense  in- 
terest in  English  literature,  and  his  sense  of  fellowship 
with  modern  English  writers  he  was  in  heart  and  soul 
a  lover  of  his  countiy.     I  recall  the  delight  with  which 
he  showed  me  a  note  which  Wordsworth,  at  his  sug- 
gestion, had  added  to  the  sonnet  "  To  the  Pennsylva- 
nians."     The  sonnet  reflected  severely  on  the  people 
of  Pennsylvania  because  of  the  suspension  or  delay  of 
payment  for  a  year  or   two  of   interest  on  the  State 
debt ;  and  the  note  was  to  the  effect  that  the  reproach 
was  no  longer  applicable.     The  note  was  on  the  fly- 
leaf of  the  fifth  volume  of  the  last  edition  of  the  poems 
published  in  the  poet  s  lifetime,  and  was  probably  the 
last  sentence  composed  by  Wordsworth  for  the  press. 

I  have  spoken  of  Henry  Reed's  personal  influence 
and  of  his  desire  to  awaken  in  others  the  interest  in 
literature  which  so  peculiarly  characterized  him.  As 
a  college  professor  his  influence  was  invaluable,  for 
nothing  ^ave  him  more  pleasure  than  helping  young 
inquirers  in  the  path  of  knowledge.  But  as  he  moved 
in  society,  and  as  he  appeared  now  and  again  as  a 
lecturer,  an  influence  for  good  always  went  out  from 
him. 


SARA   COLERIDGE  AND  HER  BROTHERS  141 

Can  I  ever  forget  an  interview  forty-four  years  ago, 
in  a  late  October  evening,  with  one  of  the  survivors  of 
the  wreck  of  the  Arctic?  It  was  at  the  house  of  Pro- 
fessor Reed's  brother.  The  survivor  was  one  of  a  very 
small  number  of  persons,  who  by  a  desperate  effort  had 
saved  themselves  on  a  miserably  constructed  raft.  Mr. 
William  B.  Reed  asked  Mr.  Morton  McMichael  and 
myself  to  be  with  him  when  he  received  the  young 
man.  He  was  shown  photographs  of  Henry  Reed  and 
of  his  sister-in-law,  Miss  Bronson.  He  at  once  re- 
called them  as  having  been  near  him  at  the  table ;  he 
had  never  had  speech  with  them.  The  last  sight  he 
had  of  them  they  were  sitting  quietly,  side  by  side,  on 
the  deck,  in  the  awful  hours  of  suspense,  when  they 
awaited  their  doom.  For  four  hours  they  doubtless 
knew  there  was  no  hope.  Discipline  on  the  ship  there 
had  been  none;  firemen  and  crew,  with  certain  of  the 
passengers,  had  seized  the  boats,  and  had  gone  most 
of  them  only  to  perish.  The  few  that  clung  to  the 
raft  saw  the  great  ship,  with  its  precious  remaining 
freight,  sink  beneath  the  waters. 

So  perished  a  true  scholar  and  gentleman.  One 
who  was  the  soul  of  honour,  and  whose  life  was  pure 
from  all  stain.  So  long  as  Wordsworth's  verse  is 
valued  in  this  land  will  the  name  of  Professor  Henry 
Reed  be  cherished  as  that  of  his  chief  American 
disciple. 

As  I  began  my  paper  with  the  mention  of  the  friend 
to  whom  in  all  my  life  I  seem  to  have  owed  the  most, 
with  his  name  I  will  make  an  end. 


THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  SIR 
JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND 
LORD   COLERIDGE 

(LORD   CHIEF  JUSTICE   OF   ENGLAND) 


SIR  JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND 
LORD  COLERIDGE 

(LORD   CHIEF  JUSTICE  OF   ENGLAND) 

The  father  and  son,  whose  names  I  have  placed 
together,  figure  to  me  a  friendship  which  I  count  as 
among  the  choicest  gains  of  my  life.  At  my  visit  to 
England,  in  1855,  I  had  introduction  to  each,  and  from 
each  there  came  prompt  and  cordial  response.  They 
made  at  that  time  one  household,  both  in  London  and 
at  Ottery  St.  Mary,  Devon.  John  Duke  Coleridge, 
the  son,  I  saw  first.  Our  real  knowledge  of  each 
other  began  in  a  walk  from  his  chambers  in  the 
Temple,  northward  for  a  mile  or  more,  by  Regent 
Street  to  All  Saint's  Church,  Margaret  Street,  a  very 
interesting  work  of  Butterfield's,  then  nearing  com- 
pletion. I  felt  instantly  at  one  with  my  new  friend. 
Life  was  bright  with  promise  before  him ;  success  had 
already  come  in  his  profession,  and  his  future  was 
assured.  But  it  was  plain  that  his  supreme  love  was 
for  literature.  A  brilliant  career  at  Oxford,  and  his 
family  traditions,  had  made  intellectual  things  his 
chief  interest.  It  was  plain  to  me  that  he  had  genius, 
and  that  his  memory  was  remarkable,  and  that  he  had 
been   an   omnivorous    reader.      Our    best   American 

L  145 


146  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

writers  were  dear  to  him,  and  I  especially  remember 
his  glowing  words  as  to  Hawthorne ;  they  brought  to 
me  a  feeling  of  self-reproach,  for  I  had  hardly  at  that 
time  taken  the  full  measure  of  the  author  of  the 
"  Scarlet  Letter."  But  in  that  first  conversation  it 
was  the  genius  of  Burke  on  which  my  friend  dwelt 
with  especial  animation ;  his  writings  he  considered 
superior  to  those  of  any  man  of  his  time.  It  showed, 
I  thought,  my  friend's  fine  instinct  that  at  the  outset 
of  his  own  career  he  should  have  this  devotion  to  one, 
who,  as  philosopher,  statesman,  scholar,  figures  to  us 
all  excellence  as  an  upholder  of  Constitutional  Gov- 
ernment. 

The  object  of  our  walk  was  to  visit,  as  I  have  said,, 
a  church  in  which  Coleridge  took  a  deep  interest, 
because  of  his  friendship  for  Butterfield,  the  architect, 
and  his  admiration  for  his  genius.  It  was  a  church  of 
red  and  black  brick,  the  windows  having  brown  stone 
mullions  and  arches,  the  spire  covered  with  slate. 
The  chief  merit  seemed  to  me  the  skilful  way  in  which 
the  architect  had  made  use  of  all  the  ground  he  had 
—  ordinary  building  lots  in  a  street  of  dwelling  houses. 
Tower,  nave,  and  choir  were  sideways  with  the  street^ 
parish  buildings,  with  gables  on  the  street  front  at 
either  end  of  the  church  lot,  leaving  space  between 
for  the  Gothic  gateway  or  portal,  and  an  opening 
sufficient  to  disclose  the  nave  windows  and  the  win- 
dows of  the  clerestory.  The  interior  was  unfinished,, 
but  already  there  was  rich  adornment  of  marbles  and 
alabaster.       There    could    be    no    east  window,    but 


JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     147 

the  wall  which  was  in  place  of  it  was  to  be  covered 
with  frescoes  by  Dyce.  One,  of  the  Ascension,  was 
already  finished.  We  climbed  the  long  ladder  to 
the  platform  in  front  of  it ;  even  a  near  view  showed 
it  to  be  a  work  of  great  beauty.  The  great  west 
window  —  the  chief  lis^ht  of  the  church  —  is  bv 
Gerente  of  Paris.  The  cost  of  the  church  up  to 
that  time  had  been  ^26,000,  of  which  Mr.  Beres- 
ford  Hope  had  given  ^5000,  Mr.  Tritton,  a  banker, 
had  given  the  remainder,  but  his  name  was  for  some 
years  unknown.  The  church  for  a  long  time  was 
incorrectly  spoken  of  as  Mr.  Hope's. 

In  this  year,  1855,  the  Oxford  Movement  still  had 
the  strongest  hold  on  men  who,  like  Coleridge,  had, 
during  their  University  career,  been  under  its  full  in- 
fluence. He  spoke  of  Newman's  sermons  at  St. 
Mary's,  and  described  the  effect  produced  on  the  young 
men  who  listened ;  he  told  of  their  standing  on  either 
side  of  the  path  by  which  the  preacher  walked  as  he 
went  from  the  pulpit,  eager  to  get  a  near  view  of  his 
striking  face.  It  was  about  the  time  of  the  closing  of 
Coleridge's  Oxford  career  (1845)  that  Newman  left  the 
Church  of  England.  In  1851  Manning  and  James 
Hope  (afterward  Hope-Scott)  went  over.  It  is  of  this 
period  that  Gladstone  has  spoken  as  "  eminently  the 
time  of  secessions.  Then  departed  from  us  James 
Hope,  who  may  with  little  exaggeration  be  called  the 
flower  of  his  generation.  The  Papal  Brief,  very  closely 
followed  by  the  Gorham  Judgment,  was  a  powerful 
•cause  of  a  blast  which  swept  away,  to  their  own  great 


148  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

detriment  as  well  as  ours,  a  large  portion  of  our  most 
learned,  select,  and  devoted  clergy."  I  give  this  as  a 
somewhat  remarkable  deliverance  of  Gladstone,  and 
also  as  showing  what  was  the  atmosphere  in  the  years 
immediately  before  the  time  at  which  my  acquaintance 
with  John  Coleridge  began. 

My  first  sight  of  Sir  John  Taylor  Coleridge,  better 
known  as  Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  was  at  dinner  a  few 
days  after  my  first  meeting  with  John  Duke  Coleridge. 
This  was  at  Park  Crescent,  the  joint  home  of  father 
and  son.  The  party  was  eighteen ;  but  the  guests  of 
chief  interest  to  me  were  a  young  Hindoo  and  his  wife, 
who  were  announced  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tangar.  Judge 
Coleridge  introduced  me  immediately.  I  said,  "  You 
are  from  the  East  and  I  from  the  West."  The  Hin- 
doo's reply  was,  "  Sir,  England  and  America  and  Aus- 
tralia will  divide  the  globe."  How  often  in  the  more 
than  forty  years  which  have  followed  has  this  remark 
occurred  to  me;  and  now,  in  1898,  has  come  the  prac- 
tical alliance  between  England  and  America  which 
presages  a  rapid  increase  in  the  progress  of  English 
civilization  over  the  earth. 

My  Hindoo  friend  asked  me  questions  about  Amer- 
ica, showing  wide  range  of  reading;  he  wished  to  know 
whether  our  Judge  Story  was  a  Unitarian.  It  was 
perhaps  natural  that  a  great  writer  on  Constitutional 
Government  should  be  of  interest  to  a  student;  the 
young  man  was  a  graduate  of  King  William's  College, 
Calcutta.  He  was  small,  narrow-chested,  with  straight 
black  hair,  and  large  lustrous  eyes.     His  dress  was  a 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD   COLERIDGE     149 

black  tunic,  and  he  wore  a  red  scarf  round  his  neck. 
His  wife  was  small  and  black  haired ;  she  wore  a  dress 
of  green  silk,  embroidered  with  gold.  As  she  sat  by 
Judge  Coleridge — as  he  and  this  young  Hindoo  woman 
sat  side  by  side  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  company — I 
thought  what  a  contrast  they  presented ;  they  figured 
to  me  the  conquering  race  and  the  subject  one,  and 
the  superiority  of  our  own  race  as  to  bodily  develop- 
ment was  strikingly  shown.  The  Judge's  face  charmed 
me  from  the  first —  a  peculiar  benignity  was  expressed, 
the  sweetest  courtesy.  His  hair  was  grey,  but  his 
complexion  clear ;  the  look  of  health  which  is  so  much 
more  the  characteristic  of  the  English  than  it  is  of  our- 
selves. He  wore  a  ruffled  shirt  —  the  last  I  have  known 
of  this  old-time  badge  of  a  gentleman.  Alas  !  that  it 
is  no  more  seen.  I  remember  of  the  after-dinner  talk. 
Sir  Cornewall  Lewis's  "  Credibility  of  Early  Roman 
History  "  being  a  subject,  John  Coleridge  asked,  had 
any  one  at  the  table  ever  read  that  book  ?  The  Hindoo 
was  the  only  one  who  answered,  he  had  read  it.  The 
English  of  the  young  man  was  perfect ;  he  was  fluent, 
but  his  language  was  measured  and  stately,  almost 
that  of  books.  I  may  note  one  of  his  remarks,  though 
it  was  not  made  to  myself  —  an  Oriental  view  of  mar- 
riage. Referring  to  his  wife,  he  said  with  dignity,  "  I 
was  under  obligation  to  her  father,  and  I  married  his 
daughter!" 

I  saw  no  more  of  father  or  son  in  that  year,  1855. 
Two  years  later  I  enjoyed  their  joint  hospitality,  and 
was   further  witness  to  their  true  companionship    of 


ISO 


WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 


heart  and  mind.  They  had  kept  alive  the  same  love 
of  literature  with  all  their  devotion  to  the  profession 
in  which  each  had  achieved  such  great  success.  With 
each,  too,  there  was  deep  interest  in  whatever  con- 
cerned the  Church  of  England.  Sir  John  had  been 
the  lifelong  friend  of  Keble,  and  the  son  was  of  the 
intellectual  following  of  Newman  —  a  feeling  which 
mastered  him  all  his  years.  Father  and  son,  while 
manifesting  the  utmost  affection  each  for  the  other, 
argued  together  as  if  they  were  of  equal  age.  Sir  John, 
it  will  be  remembered,  had,  early  in  his  career,  for  a 
short  time  been  editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review.  I 
refer  to  this  as  showing  the  bent  of  his  mind  toward 
literature  as  the  possible  work  of  his  life.  His  brother, 
Henry  Nelson  Coleridge,  was  another  instance  of  high 
literary  attainment,  united  to  eminence  in  the  profes- 
sion of  the  law. 

At  a  dinner  in  Park  Crescent,  in  1857,  I  met  Dean 
Milman  and  Dr.  Hawtrey,  Provost  of  Eton.  Sir  John 
told  me  that  these  two  with  himself  had  been  contem- 
poraries at  Eton,  and,  I  think,  at  Oxford.  The  Dean 
was  a  striking  personality,  small,  bent  with  rheumatism, 
swarthy  of  complexion,  with  bright  piercing  eyes.  In 
his  knee-breeches  and  his  black  silk  stockings,  and  his 
apron,  and  his  great  shoe-buckles,  he  seemed  the  very 
pattern  of  a  scholar  and  a  high  ecclesiastic.  I  was 
opposite  to  him  at  table.  He  talked  to  me  of  Panizzi 
and  the  struggle  it  had  cost  to  get  him  elected  Libra- 
rian of  the  British  Museum ;  he  was  opposed  because 
of  his  being  a  foreigner.     The  Dean  had  taken  the 


JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     151 

strongest  interest  in  the  contest.  Already  great  good 
had  come  from  the  election.  The  great  reading  room, 
the  Dean  said,  was  Panizzi's  suggestion,  the  finest 
single  room  in  Europe,  accommodation  for  three 
hundred  readers,  costing  ^170,000.  He  complained, 
half  seriously,  of  the  stream  of  old  books,  priceless  in 
value,  that  was  now  going  across  the  Atlantic,  to  the 
great  loss  of  English  scholars  —  books  that  would  never 
come  back.  He  mentioned  as  something  for  me,  as 
an  American,  to  carry  away,  that  he  had  been  at  a 
dinner  lately  at  which  there  had  been  present  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  Cornewall  Lewis,  and  an 
ex-Chancellor,  Gladstone ;  and  Lord  Aberdeen,  an  ex- 
Prime  Minister,  was  to  have  been  present,  and  the 
occasion  of  the  dinner  was  that  there  might  be  a  dis- 
cussion about  Homer.  Judge  Coleridge  supplemented 
this  by  saying  that  pages  upon  pages  of  criticism  of 
Homer  had  been  passing  lately  between  Cornewall 
Lewis  and  Gladstone,  until  the  former's  Budget  as 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  came  out.  Then,  said 
Sir  John,  Gladstone's  knife  was  at  Lewis's  throat  in  a 
moment. 

At  another  dinner  at  Judge  Coleridge's  I  met  Mr. 
Butterfield,  the  distinguished  architect  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken.  It  was  curious  to  me  to  hear  the  ac- 
count which  he  and  John  Coleridge  gave  of  the  close 
of  the  remarkable  case  in  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench 
in  which  Dr.  Achilli  sued  Dr.  John  Henry  Newman 
for  having  published  a  defamatory  libel.  The  verdict 
of  the  jury  had  been  for  the  plaintiff  —  the  sentence 


152  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

was  a  fine  of  ^300.  The  judgment  was  delivered  by 
Mr.  Justice  Coleridge,  and  was  of  the  nature  of  a  rep- 
rimand. The  court  room  was  crowded,  the  deepest 
interest  was  felt  in  the  case  all  over  England,  and 
almost  to  a  like  extent  in  this  country.  Dr.  Achilli, 
an  ex-Catholic  priest,  had  been  delivering  addresses 
in  England  denouncing  the  Church  of  Rome.  On  his 
arriving  in  Birmingham  Dr.  Newman  published  in  a 
newspaper  of  the  city,  in  great  detail,  a  statement  of 
wicked  and  loathsome  deeds  of  Achilli,  specifying 
places  in  Italy  and  giving  dates.  The  general  opin- 
ion was  that  the  story  thus  published  was  true,  and 
in  consequence  Dr.  Achilli's  crusade  came  soon  to  an 
end.  All  that  was  left  to  him  was  to  sue.  Dr.  New- 
man was  then  put  to  great  expense  in  bringing  on  wit- 
nesses, from  Italy  and  elsewhere.  Unfortunately  for 
him  evidence  in  support  of  many  of  the  charges  could 
not  be  produced ;  hence  the  verdict.  The  two  young 
men,  John  Coleridge  and  his  friend,  listened  with  in- 
tense interest  to  the  carefully  considered,  trenchant, 
and  at  the  same  time  tender  and  touching  words  from 
the  Bench  —  feeling  for  the  Judge,  as  well  as  for  the 
ecclesiastic  who  was  receiving  sentence,  almost  the 
same  reverence  and  affection.  They  told  me  of 
the  half-smile  on  the  lips  of  Newman  as  he  received 
the  admonition  of  the  Judge,  and  then,  as  the  final 
words  came,  his  promptly  paying  the  ^300,  and,  with 
certain  of  his  friends,  going  his  way. 

But   however  serene  might  have   been    Newman's 
bearing  at  the   close  of   this  passage  of  his  life,  we 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD   COLERIDGE     153 

know  what  the  affair  had  been  to  him  from  his  dedi- 
cation of  his  "  Discourses  on  University  Education," 
published  in  1854,  "To  the  Friends  and  Benefactors 
who  by  their  prayers  and  munificent  alms  had  broken 
for  him  the  stress  of  a  great  anxiety." 

There  are  few  things  in  literature  or  in  the  history 
of  religious  opinion  more  striking  than  this  judgment 
of  Sir  John  Coleridge  in  pronouncing  the  sentence  of 
the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench  on  Dr.  Newman  for  the 
misdemeanour  of  having  published  a  defamatory  libel 
reflecting  on  Dr.  Achilli.  Judge  and  defendant  had 
met  early  in  the  race  of  life ;  each  had  won  high  dis- 
tinction ;  and  each  through  all  divergence  of  opinion 
had  retained  deep  respect  for  the  other.  They  met 
now  in  a  court  of  justice,  the  one  to  be  condemned 
by  the  other.  There  is  a  tone  of  deep  tenderness  in 
the  Judge's  words,  while  there  is  no  shrinking  from 
duty  in  his  comment  on  the  misdemeanour  of  which 
the  defendant  had  been  convicted.  At  the  outset 
there  is  the  very  careful  statement,  that  in  the  opinion 
of  ever}^  member  of  the  court  Dr.  Newman  had  hon- 
estly believed  the  allegations  he  had  made  against 
Dr.  Achilli.  But  it  was  then  very  clearly  stated  that 
proof  had  not  been  produced  for  some  of  the  gravest 
of  the  charges.  There  was  reproof,  moreover,  for 
what  seemed  the  tone  in  which  the  allesfations  were 

o 

made. 

"  A  spirit  of  ferocious  merriment,  partly  in  triumph,  partly 
in  exultation  over  the  unhappy  man  whose  foul  offences  you 
were  producing  before  your  hearers."      "  It  is  sad,"  Judge 


154  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Coleridge  continues,  "to  see  that  speaking  of  the  Reformed 
Church  you  should  begin  with  such  a  sentence  as  this  — '  In 
the  midst  of  outrages  such  as  these,  my  brethren  of  the  Ora- 
tory, wiping  its  mouth  and  clasping  its  hands,  and  turning  up 
its  eyes,  it  trudges  to  the  town  hall  to  hear  Dr.  Achilli  expose 
the  Inquisition.'  " 

Yet  Judge  Coleridge  refers  to  writings  which  had 
proceeded  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Newman  while  he  was 
a  member  of  the  Church  of  England,  in  which,  — 

"  Great  as  was  their  ability,  sound  as  was  their  doctrine, 
urgent  as  they  were  in  teaching  holiness  of  life,  nothing  was 
more  remarkable  than  the  tenderness  and  gentleness  of  spirit 
that  pervaded  the  whole." 

Some  of  the  final  words  of  the  judgment  were  as 
follows :  — 

"  Firmly  attached  as  I  am  to  the  Church  of  England  in 
which  I  have  lived  and  in  which  I  hope  to  die,  yet  there  is 
nothing  in  my  mind  on  seeing  you  now  before  me  but  the 
deepest  regret.  I  can  hardly  expect  that  you  will  take  in 
good  part  many  of  the  observations  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to 
make.  Suffer  me,  however,  to  say  one  or  two  words  more. 
The  great  controversy  between  the  churches  will  go  on,  we 
know  not,  through  God's  pleasure,  how  long.  Whether, 
henceforward,  you  will  take  any  part  in  it  or  not,  it  will  be 
for  you  to  determine,  but  I  think  the  pages  before  you  should 
give  you  this  warning,  upon  calm  consideration,  that  if  you 
again  engage  in  this  controversy,  you  should  engage  in  it 
neither  personally  nor  bitterly.  The  best  road  to  unity  is 
by  increase  of  holiness  of  life." 

John  Coleridge,  the  son,  had  always  an  immense 
drawing  to  Newman.     Better  for  him  it  would  have 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     155 

been  had  Keble,  his  father's  friend,  been  more  the 
guide  of  his  Hfe.  In  a  striking  letter  contributed  by- 
John  Coleridge  to  his  father's  Memoir  of  Keble, 
he  speaks  of  a  walk  he  took  with  the  poet,  "  He  en- 
joying the  sunshine  and  the  air,  and  I  the  kindness, 
perhaps  I  may  presume  to  say  the  affection  which 
he  showed  me  then,  as  always,  and  which  I  recall 
always  with  a  sense  of  self-reproach."  Later  on  in 
this  letter  John  Coleridge  says :  — 

"  Our  conversation  fell  upon  Charles  I.  with  regard  to 
whose  truth  and  honour  I  had  used  some  expressions  in  a 
review,  which  had,  as  I  heard,  displeased  him.  I  referred  to 
this,  and  he  said  it  was  true.  I  replied  that  I  was  very  sorry  to 
displease  him  by  anything  I  said  or  thought,  adding  that  a  man 
could  but  do  his  best  to  form  an  honest  opinion  upon  histori- 
cal evidence,  and,  if  he  had  to  speak,  to  express  that  opinion. 
On  this,  he  said,  I  remember,  with  a  tenderness  and  humility 
not  only  most  touching,  but  to  me  most  embarrassing,  that 
' it  might  be  so;  what  was  he  to  judge  of  other  men ;  he  was 
old,  and  things  were  now  looked  at  very  differently ;  that  he 
knew  he  had  many  things  to  unlearn,  and  to  learn  afresh,  and 
that  I  must  not  mind  what  he  had  said,  for  that,  in  truth,  be- 
lief in  the  heroes  of  his  youth  had  become  a  part  of  him.'  " 

I  give  this  as  showing  what  was  John  Coleridge's  rev- 
erence of  feeling  toward  his  father's  friend.  When 
he  first  went  to  Oxford  Keble  was  no  lonofer  in  resi- 
dence  there,  and  the  Newman  influence  was  at  its 
height.  The  young  undergraduate  came  under  the 
spell  of  that  marvellous  rhetoric ;  he  remained  under 
it  in  a  sense  for  all  his  life.  Coleridge,  the  father, 
was    of   the    same    entirely  religious   mind  as  Keble, 


156  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

whose  "Christian  Year"  shows  a  devout  feehng  akin 
to  that  of  St.  Augustine  or  St.  Bernard. 

I  spent  the  summer  of  i860  in  England.  John 
Coleridge  had  thriven  greatly  by  that  time,  and  had 
his  own  establishment  in  London,  his  father  having 
retired  from  the  Bench  on  his  pension  after  twenty- 
five  years  of  service ;  he  had  been  sworn  in,  more- 
over, of  the  Privy  Council;  Heath's  Court,  Ottery 
St.  Mary,  being  thenceforth  his  only  home.  John, 
the  son,  told  me  of  his  own  great  success  at  the 
bar;  he  said  he  had  become  the  fashion,  and  re- 
tainers were  flowing  in.  So  rapidly,  indeed,  had  his 
reputation  risen  that  he  had  been  offered  the  Chief 
Justiceship  of  Calcutta,  at  a  salary  of  ^8000,  with  a 
retiring  pension  after  ten  years  of  ser\'ice  of  ^3000. 
Very  wisely  he  had  declined  this,  though  he  could 
not  have  foreseen  that  in  fifteen  or  eighteen  years 
he  was  to  be  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England.  In 
speaking  to  me  of  the  beginning  of  his  career  he 
said  that  for  the  few  years  that  followed  his  first 
admission  to  the  bar  he  had  taken  charge  of  the 
literary  department  of  the  Guardian,  of  which  his 
friend  Mountague  Bernard  was  the  editor.  A  sharp 
controversy  with  Charles  Kingsley  had  arisen  be- 
cause of  a  review  by  Coleridge  of  "  Yeast."  Fred- 
erick Maurice  had  come  to  the  defence  of  Kingsley, 
and  it  became  a  fierce  passage  at  arms,  leaving,  as  I 
know,  bitter  memories  on  both  sides.  The  Guardian 
rose  rapidly  in  circulation  and  influence.  John  Cole- 
ridge's connection  with  it,  no  doubt,  gave  him  increased 


JOHN"  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     157 

facility  as  a  writer.  But  his  profession  soon  claimed 
him.  Never,  however,  did  his  interest  in  matters  of 
literature  suffer  abatement.  It  could  be  said  of  him 
eminently  that  he  had  genius.  His  brilliant  power 
of  talk  made  him  a  delight  to  dinner-table  guests  at 
his  own  house  or  elsewhere.  It  was  at  his  table  in 
i860  that  I  first  met  Matthew  Arnold.  A  very  brill- 
iant person  was  Arnold  in  those  days,  but  of  sweet 
and  winning  manner;  as  an  especial  mark  of  emi- 
nence he  was  singularly  urbane  and  gracious.  Ex- 
quisite was  he  in  dress,  and  his  black  hair  and  fine 
eyes,  and  his  easy  bearing  and  pleasant  talk,  made 
him  altogether  fascinating.  The  friendship  between 
him  and  Coleridge  was  of  the  closest:  it  was  but 
the  continuing  of  the  almost  brotherhood  of  Mr. 
Justice  Coleridge  and  Dr.  Arnold.  One  remark  of 
Matthew  Arnold  at  this  first  meeting  I  recall.  Cole- 
ridge had  said  to  his  wife  from  his  end  of  the  table, 
referring   to    the    Guardian  period,   "  We  were  very 

poor  in  those  days,  J "     "  Yes,  we  were,"  was  the 

quick  reply.  "  Ah,"  said  Arnold,  "  you  talk  of  having 
been  poor,  when  at  any  time  you  could  sit  down  and 
in  an  hour  write  an  article  for  the  Gtiardian  for  which 
you  would  get  your  ten  pounds.  Now  it  costs  me 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  write."  I  have  often 
thought  of  this  in  reading  the  smoothly  flowing  sen- 
tences of  Arnold ;  their  very  simplicity  showing  that 
infinite  pains  had  been  bestowed  upon  them. 

With  Arnold  and  with  Coleridge  there  was  a  pecul- 
iar interest  in  Americans,  an  eagerness  to  learn  what 


158  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

they  could  of  the  civilization  across  the  sea.  Coleridge 
told  me  of  his  receiving  a  copy  of  Arnold's  first  pub- 
lished volume  of  poems  —  they  were  anonymous  poems 
by  "  A."  Meeting  Arnold  soon  afterward  Coleridge 
spoke  of  having  received  such  a  volume,  —  "  Ah,  yes," 
said  Arnold,  "  by  an  American."  I  mentioned  this 
half  seriously  at  a  dinner  given  to  Arnold  in  Phila- 
delphia, as  showing  how  desirous  our  distinguished 
guest  had  been  from  a  very  early  period  of  life  to 
identify  himself  with  our  great  country  ! 

My  first  visit  to  Heath  s  Court,  Ottery  St.  Mar}% 
was  in  this  year,  i860.  I  had  full  opportunity  then  of 
observing  how  close  was  the  friendship,  so  to  call  it, 
of  father  and  son.  The  fact  that  the  father  had  been 
of  high  distinction  as  a  judge,  and  that  the  son  was 
midway  in  his  brilliant  career  at  the  bar,  made  them 
companions  in  mind  to  a  remarkable  degree.  Each 
was  proud  of  the  other.  Judge  Coleridge  was  of  rare 
sweetness  and  nobleness  of  character,  of  great  refine- 
ment of  mind,  of  great  literary  acquirement,  and  of  an 
interest  in  literature  which  had  never  flagged  in  all 
his  professional  career.  Before  his  work  at  the  bar 
had  engrossed  him  he  was,  as  I  have  said,  for  a  year  or 
two  editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review.  Southey  helped 
to  obtain  his  appointment  to  this  position,  and  ex- 
pressed his  satisfaction  at  it,  for  the  reason  especially 
that  kindlier  reference  to  American  writers  was  thence- 
forth assured.  But  John  Taylor  Coleridge  had  pecul- 
iar qualification  for  the  Bench,  and  in  the  roll  of 
English   judges  there  is  no  more  honourable  name. 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     159 

It  was  a  joy  to  me  to  be  under  his  roof,  and  every 
hour  of  his  society  was  a  delight.  Endless  was  the 
talk  that  went  on.  I  could  not  but  be  amused  at  the 
vehemence  with  which  the  son  would  utter  opinions 
startling  to  the  father  ;  there  would  be  gentle  and 
mild  remonstrance,  then  a  further  burst  from  my  im- 
petuous friend,  but  in  all  the  warmth  of  discussion 
there  was  never  a  sign  of  any  straining  of  affection. 

I  was  not  in  England  between  i860  and  1865.  I 
had  active  correspondence,  however,  in  that  interval 
with  John  Coleridge,  and  some  interchange  of  letters 
with  his  father.  Writing  under  the  date  of  May,  1861, 
Sir  John  says  :  — 

"John's  progress  is  all  I  could  have  wished  —  much  more 
than  I  could  have  hoped.  All  through  his  younger  days,  at 
school,  at  college,  and  in  training,  for  the  law,  I  used  to  fancy 
he  was  never  doing  himself  justice,  always  suffering  in  the 
next  stage  from  want  of  due  preparation  in  the  one  preced- 
ing. But  he  has  gone  beyond  my  hopes  in  the  present  por- 
tion of  his  career  :  nothing  but  doubts  as  to  his  bodily  strength 
stand  between  him  and  the  highest  place ;  and  then  the  older 
he  gets,  and  the  greater,  I  find  him  the  more  loving  and  con- 
siderate." 

Sir  John  speaks  in  the  same  letter  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  Sir  John  Patteson,  the  father  of  the  Bishop, 
John  Coleridge  Patteson  :  — 

"He  is  dying,"  he  says,  "of  a  hopeless  disease,  and  he 
knows  it,  and  you  could  scarcely  contemplate  a  voyage  to  Eng- 
land with  more  calmness,  hope,  and  resignation  than  he  does 
his  death  and  passage  to  another  world.  Yet  there  is  not  a 
grain  of  presumption.  .  .  .     He  knows  whom  he  has  served 


l6o  WORDSWORTH  AMD   THE  COLERIDGES 

and  in  whom  he  has  trusted  all  his  life  long.  From  Eton," 
he  adds,  "  up  to  this  hour  we  have  lived  in  unbroken  and 
close  intimacy,  of  the  same  profession,  and  on  the  same 
Bench,  —  my  brother  by  marriage,  and  always  living  near  to 
each  other  since  we  left  college,  you  may  fancy  what  it  is 
to  me  at  seventy-one  to  part  with  him."  Sir  John  goes  on  to 
say,  "  I  have  just  lost  my  nephew,  Herbert  Coleridge,  grand- 
son of  the  poet,  and  only  son  of  Henry  Nelson  and  Sara 
Coleridge.  They  all  sleep  side  by  side,  and  there  could 
hardly  be  another  plot  of  ground  in  which  so  much  genius, 
learning,  and  goodness  sleep.  Herbert  Coleridge,  owing  to 
circumstances,  used  to  look  up  to  me  as  what  he  called  his 
father  and  mother,  and  I  certainly  loved  him  as  my  own 
child." 

There  is  so  much  that  is  worth  dwelling  on  in 
regard  to  the  Coleridge  race  that  I  may  here  insert 
one  or  two  passages  from  a  paper  in  Macmillans 
Magazine  of  November,  1861,  by  John,  Duke  Cole- 
ridge on  his  cousin  Herbert.  Henry  Nelson  Coleridge, 
the  father,  editor  of  the  works  of  Samuel  Taylor  Cole- 
ridge, is  first  spoken  of  —  a  person  whose  intellectual 
and  social  qualities  were  of  the  highest  order  —  as 
editor  of  the  Literary  Remains,  the  chief  contributor 
to  the  permanent  fame  of  the  poet-philosopher.  Sara 
Coleridge,  Herbert's  mother,  her  nephew  refers  to 
with  great  warmth  of  affection.  Her  scholarship  and 
wide  and  varied  learning  he  dwells  on,  and  then 
adds : — 

"  And  when  to  these  endowments  there  is  added  great 
power  of  conversation  and  remarkable  personal  beauty,  it  is 
easy  to  understand  the  striking  impression  she  made  on  the 
society  wherein  her  lot  was  cast.     Those,  however,  who  only 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD   COLERIDGE     i6l 

saw  her  in  society  could  not  know  how  tender  and  feminine  a 
nature  lay  under  that  bright  and  attractive  exterior." 

John  Coleridge  tells  in  his  paper  the  story  of  his 
cousin's  achievement  in  his  short  life,  and  then  speaks 
of  the  strong  impression  of  power  and  promise  he 
made  upon  all  who  knew  him  well. 

"They  think,"  he  says,  "with  a  certain  sad  regret  of  his 
unfulfilled  renown.  They  will  treasure  the  memory  of  his 
warm  heart  and  affectionate  disposition  ;  of  his  character, 
temper  softened  from  any  harshness,  and  refined  and  purified 
from  any  selfishness  into  considerate  and  almost  tender  gen- 
tleness, by  the  affliction  which  he  took,  as  becomes  a  Chris- 
tian to  take,  what  it  pleases  God  to  send  ;  of  his  religion, 
sincere  and  deep,  —  thoughtful,  as  might  be  expected  in  the 
grandson  and  profound  admirer  of  Samuel  T.  Coleridge,  — 
but  remarkably  free  from  pretence  or  display ;  of  a  man 
careless,  perhaps  too  careless,  about  general  society  and 
ordinary  acquaintance,  but  giving  his  whole  heart  where  he 
gave  it  at  all,  and  giving  it  steadfastly." 

Returning  to  my  correspondence  with  Sir  John 
Coleridge,  he  speaks,  under  date  of  September,  1863, 
of  a  family  reunion  they  had  had  at  Heath's  Court, 
"  For  a  few  days,"  he  says  "  we  had  our  Jesuit  son  with 
us,  after  some  years'  absence,  and  very  happy  we  were 
together,  he  as  gentle,  as  natural,  as  affectionate,  as 
full  of  old  recollections  as  ever."  This  was  the  only 
reference  Sir  John  ever  made  either  by  letter  or  in 
conversation  to  one  of  the  sorrows  of  his  life,  —  the 
going  away  of  his  second  son  Henry  from  the  Church 
of  England,  —  a  defection  due  to  the  influence  of 
Newman,  or  rather  to  the  combined  influence  of  cer- 


1 62  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE   COLERIDGES 

tain  of  the  Oxford  writers  when  the  Movement  was 
in  its  period  of  highest  activity.  Father  Coleridge,  as 
he  became,  was  highly  prized  in  the  Roman  Com- 
munion during  the  more  than  thirty  years  that  fol- 
lowed his  change ;  he  was  editor  for  many  years  of 
the  Catholic  magazine,  The  Month. 

During  the  period  of  our  war,  I  had  important 
letters  from  Sir  John ;  they  were  admirable  in  their 
expression  of  sympathy  with  the  people  of  the  North, 
thouo^h  there  were  now  and  then  criticisms  of  our 
action,  and  expressions  of  fear  as  to  the  possibility  of 
our  success.  There  was  the  further  foreboding  that 
the  restoration  of  the  old  Union  would  be  impractica- 
ble even  in  the  event  of  our  complete  military  triumph. 
Englishmen  were  slow  to  realize  the  strength  which 
the  cause  of  the  North  had  in  the  leadership  of  Lin- 
coln. In  an  interview  I  had  with  Mr.  Gladstone  in 
March,  1865,  I  drew  from  him  an  admission  of  the 
great  qualities  of  Lincoln ;  but  this  was  just  as  the 
war  was  closing. 

In  1867  I  made  my  second  visit  to  Heath's  Court. 
Sir  John  welcomed  me  with  sweet  cordiality.  I  was 
more  than  ever  impressed  with  his  simple,  natural 
manner,  and  the  courtesy  which  influenced  every 
word  and  action.  John  Coleridge  arrived  after  I  did, 
from  a  house  he  had  taken  for  a  time  on  Dartmoor. 
Welcomes  were  said  and  then  followed  animated  talk 
on  events  of  the  day,  and  again  I  looked  on  at  the 
companionship  which  was  that  of  the  closest  friend- 
ship between  father  and  son.     John  was  by  this  time 


JOHN-  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD   COLERIDGE     163 

in  Parliament,  being  member  for  Exeter.  I  may  note 
as  one  of  the  records  of  the  days  of  my  visit  my  friend's 
comment  on  Gladstone  from  his  House  of  Commons 
experience  of  him.  (I  am  writing,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, of  a  period  more  than  thirty  years  ago.)  My 
friend  considered  him  wanting  in  worldly  wisdom, 
deficient  in  skill  as  a  political  leader.  Mrs.  Glad- 
stone, he  said,  gave  him  no  help  in  keeping  the  party 
together.  The  two  were  not  to  be  named  with  Lord 
and  Lady  Palmerston  in  tact  and  sagacity  as  to  such 
management.  John  Coleridge  considered  the  Liberal 
Party  irretrievably  broken  up  by  reason  of  this  imper- 
fection in  Gladstone's  temperament.  Bright,  he  said, 
was  incontestably  the  leading  mind  in  the  House  as 
to  the  Reform  legislation.  John  Stuart  Mill  my 
friend  spoke  of  with  warmth  of  admiration.  "  I  can- 
not tell  you,"  he  said,  "  the  satisfaction  it  is  to  me  to 
sit  next  him  as  I  do  in  the  House."  Mill's  shy 
refined  ways  attracted  him;  his  quiet  humour  he 
dwelt  on.  Once  Mill  had  to  take  notice  of  the  fre- 
quent quotations  members  on  the  opposite  side  made 
from  his  writings  in  order,  really,  to  badger  him.  Of 
course  they  were  passages  which  these  men  had  seen 
as  extracts  and  had  committed.  Mill  said,  "  I  feel 
greatly  the  compliment  paid  me  by  these  frequent 
quotations :  it  is,  perhaps,  not  good  for  me  to  be  thus 
referred  to,  yet  my  vanity  is  kept  down  by  what 
becomes  more  and  more  obvious  to  me,  that  hon- 
ourable gentlemen  who  thus  quote  me  have  really 
read  no  other  portions  of  my  writings^     The  House 


1 64  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

roared  at  this  clever  turn,  so  discomfiting  to  Mill's 
assailants. 

Of  Sir  John  Coleridge's  conversation  I  have  the 
record  of  what  he  told  me  of  Nassau  Senior,  who  was 
with  him  at  Eton  and  afterward  at  Oxford.  Senior 
was  of  excellent  parts,  but  he  professed  to  care  noth- 
ing for  university  honours,  said  a  degree  was  all  he 
wanted,  and  accordingly  he  was  idle,  but  cutting  the 
thing  rather  too  close,  he  was  plucked.  This  being 
very  mortifying  to  him  he  put  himself  under  Whately 
to  be  coached.  His  friends  believed  in  him,  and  a  bet, 
the  curious  one  of  those  wine-drinking  days,  "  A  rump 
and  a  dozen,"  (a  rump  steak  and  a  dozen  of  port)  was 
made  that  he  would  still  take  honours.  Sure  enough, 
in  six  months  he  had  won  a  place  in  the  first  class. 
He  went  to  the  bar  afterward  and  was  appointed  a 
Master  in  Chancery.  Subsequently  his  particular  of- 
fice was  abolished,  but  his  salary  was  continued  as  a 
pension.  So  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  had  his  ^2000 
a  year  with  nothing  to  do.  He  wasted  no  moment  of 
his  time,  however,  and  as  he  had  to  travel  a  good  deal 
in  search  of  health  he  kept  careful  journals,  chiefly 
notes  of  the  talk  of  leading  men.  His  way  was,  after 
a  conversation  with  any  one,  for  instance,  with  Guizot, 
to  write  out  what  had  been  said  and  then  submit  to 
Guizot  the  record,  and  ask  him  for  his  approval  of  it. 
Then  he  w^ould  go,  perhaps,  to  Thiers,  and  say,  "  Here 
is  what  Guizot  thinks,  what  comment  have  you  to 
make."  Of  course  men,  knowing  they  were  to  be 
reported,  would  talk   in   a  less   simple,   natural    way 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     165 

than  otherwise ;  but,  as  confidence  was  felt  in  Senior, 
things  of  great  importance  were  said  to  him.  He  was 
received  everywhere ;  he  was  known  to  be  a  very  close 
friend  of  De  Tocqueville,  and  this  gave  him  distinc- 
tion in  France.  It  was  universally  known  that  at  a 
proper  time  the  Journals  would  be  published.  Sir 
John  had  seen  them  and  could  bear  witness  to  their 
extraordinary  interest. 

The  Journals  of  Nassau  Senior  began  to  be  pub- 
lished some  two  years  after  the  date  of  this  conversa- 
tion. They  are  most  valuable  as  records  of  the 
opinions  of  leading  men  in  all  the  countries  visited. 
The  picture  of  Egypt  of  the  date  of  1856,  when  the 
Suez  Canal  was  first  projected,  is  very  striking,  from 
the  opportunity  given  for  comparison  with  the  benefi- 
cent change  which  has  come  with  the  English  occu- 
pation. It  is  the  glory  of  England  that  this  benefit 
has  been  wrought :  well  is  it  for  us  in  America,  at  the 
moment  when  we  are  undertaking  the  responsibilities 
of  similar  rule,  that  so  noble  an  example  is  before  us. 
Hardly  since  the  world  began  has  greater  good  come 
to  a  subject  race.  India  as  a  whole  is  a  like  example, 
but  Egypt,  with  its  ten  millions  of  people  is  an 
object  lesson  from  which  it  is  impossible  to  turn 
aside. 

My  last  sight  of  dear  Sir  John  Coleridge  was  as 
he  gave  me  his  blessing  at  the  end  of  my  visit  of 
1867. 

At  a  short  visit  to  England  of  1869,  I  dined  with 
William  Edward  Forster  at  the  Reform  Club  to  meet 


l66  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Sir  John  Duke  Coleridge,  as  he  had  then  become, 
having  been  knighted  on  his  appointment  as  Sohcitor 
General.  Mr.  Forster  had  tried  to  get  his  brother-in- 
law,  Matthew  Arnold,  also,  but  telegrams  had  failed 
to  reach  him.  The  chief  subject  of  talk  at  this  pleas- 
ant dinner  was  the  Alabama  controversy,  which  was 
then  at  its  height.  I  was  put  to  it  to  defend  our 
American  view  against  men  of  such  distinction.  I 
could  only  dwell  on  the  danger  to  England  of  her 
allowing  it  to  stand  as  a  precedent  that  neutrals  could 
allow  w^arships  to  go  out  to  prey  upon  the  commerce 
of  belligerents  —  rather  that  neutrals  were  not  to  be 
held  to  account  if  ships  fitted  for  war  escaped  from 
their  ports.  Forster,  I  remember,  rejected  utterly 
what  had  been  urged  in  America  by  Mr.  Sumner  and 
others,  that  England  was  to  be  held  answerable  for 
the  standing  given  to  the  Southern  cruisers  by  the 
acknowledgment  of  the  South  as  belligerents.  He 
said  that  he  had  himself  urged  on  Lord  Palmerston's 
Government  this  acknowledgment,  thinking  it  neces- 
sary on  the  ground  of  humanity.  I  may  add  that 
three  years  later  came  the  settlement  known  as  the 
Geneva  Arbitration,  and  the  payment  by  England  of 
three  millions  sterling  as  compensation  to  us  for  the 
ravasjes  of  the  Alabama. 

Forster  and  Coleridge,  at  the  time  of  this  Reform 
Club  dinner,  were  both  members  of  the  first  Gladstone 
Government,  and  were  each  of  great  promise  of  dis- 
tinction. I  saw  in  Coleridge  the  fine  result  of  uni- 
versity training  founded  on  unmistakable  genius,  and 


JOHy  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     167 

in  Forster  the  instinct  of  rule,  rather  the  quiet  inward 
feeling  that  the  highest  position  might  one  day  be  his. 
Through  all  I  perceived  in  Forster  an  absolute  devo- 
tion to  his  country,  with  a  supreme  desire  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  its  best  interests.  As  I  looked  on  at 
the  intercourse  of  these  gifted  men  I  perceived  that 
Coleridge  was  fully  conscious  of  Forster's  power :  he 
deferred  to  him,  almost  unconsciously,  as  to  one  who 
was  born  to  rule. 

Four  years  passed  before  I  again  saw  Sir  John 
Duke  Coleridge.  During  this  period  his  name  had 
been  much  in  the  mouths  of  people  from  his  having 
been  counsel  of  the  Tichborne  family  in  their  famous 
case.  His  speech  for  the  defence  occupied  some 
twenty  days,  covering  two  whole  sides  of  the  Times 
daily  —  perhaps  the  longest  speech  on  record  in  a 
jury  trial.  His  cross-examination  of  the  claimant  had 
lasted  fourteen  days ;  that  it  should  have  lasted  so 
long  was  evidence  of  the  cunning  and  audacity  of  the 
claimant.  Strange  that  such  a  man  should  have  had 
his  upholders  among  people  of  education  !  Coleridge 
said  to  me,  "  Sir  Roger  Tichborne,  who  disappeared 
at  the  age  of  seventeen  was  a  proficient  in  music  ; 
when  I  handed  the  claimant  a  music-book,  and  he 
held  it  upside  down,  I  thought  no  further  evidence 
was  needed  of  his  being  an  ignorant  pretender."  For 
almost  a  year  the  English  Courts  were  occupied  with 
the  case,  first  with  the  suit  brought  by  the  man  Orton 
(the  claimant)  and  then  by  his  trial  for  perjury.  I 
read  almost  the  whole  of  Coleridge's  speech,  as  the 


1 68  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

numbers  of  the  Tiuies  came  here,  and  found  it  of  re- 
markable interest.  While  the  case  was  in  progress 
Coleridge  became  Attorney  General.  In  1874,  as  one 
of  the  last  acts  of  the  Gladstone  Government,  which 
ended  in  that  year,  he  was  made  Lord  Chief  Justice 
of  the  Common  Pleas  and  raised  to  the  peerage,  be- 
coming Baron  Coleridge  of  Ottery  St.  Mary.  On  the 
death  of  Sir  Alexander  Cockburn  in  the  following 
year,  he  became  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England. 

Lord  Selborne  in  "  Memorials  Personal  and  Politi- 
cal "  (L  324),  writes:  — 

"In  1874,  Sir  John  Duke  Coleridge  received  with  a  peer- 
age, the  promotion  due,  not  only  to  his  official  position  and 
his  great  powers  and  services,  but  to  the  self-denial  with 
which,  when  no  such  prospect  was  in  view,  he  had  declined 
the  Mastership  of  the  Rolls.  I  rejoiced  that  his  father,  my 
constant  friend,  then  in  his  eighty-fourth  year,  should  have 
lived  to  see  these  crowning  honours  of  the  intellectual  emi- 
nence, which  had  descended  in  that  remarkable  family 
through  three  generations." 

Sir  John  Coleridge's  health  had  begun  to  fail  during 
the  years  of  his  son's  rapid  advancement.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  he  wrote  the  "  Life  of  Keble  "  —  a  book 
which  was  almost  of  the  nature  of  an  autobiography, 
as  he  told  of  the  closeness  of  his  personal  union  with 
the  subject  of  his  Memoir.  It  remains  as  a  model  of 
sympathetic  biography,  and  as  showing  that  in  the 
busiest  career  there  is  abundant  opportunity  for  up- 
lifted thought. 

Sir  John  Coleridge,  as  I  know  from  Lord  Coleridge, 


JOHN  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     169 

declined  a  peerage  which  was  offered  him  by  Mr. 
Gladstone.  One  of  his  reasons  was  that  as  he  had 
never  been  in  the  House  of  Commons  he  was  without 
the  parliamentary  experience  needed  for  debating  in 
the  House  of  Lords.  But  he  was  more  influenced, 
doubtless,  by  unwillingness  to  exchange  the  quiet  of 
his  Devonshire  home  for  the  turmoil  of  London.  It 
was  granted  him  to  decline  slowly,  preserving  his  fac- 
ulties to  the  last,  dying  in  1876  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
six.  From  the  letter  I  wrote  to  Lord  Coleridije  on 
this  news  reaching  me  I  extract  as  follows :  — 

"...  The  sweet  graciousness  of  his  hospitality  first  of  all 
charmed  me  and  then  I  came  to  see  on  what  a  deep  feeling 
of  religious  thoughtfulness  his  character  rested.  I  feel  it  to 
be  one  of  the  chief  blessings  of  my  life  to  have  known  him. 
It  was  indeed  a  great  privilege  to  have  familiar  intercourse 
with  one  who  had  taken  part  in  such  important  matters  — 
one  whose  gifts  of  mind  and  whose  high  cultivation,  and 
whose  purity  of  thought  made  him  a  guide  and  example. 
All  this  comes  to  my  mind  as  I  think  of  his  long  life  passed 
in  honour,  and  of  his  sweet  and  noble  presence.  Even  to  me 
the  world  seems  other  than  it  was  now  that  he  is  gone. 
What  then  must  be  your  feeling  !  I  know  well  what  the  love 
was  between  you  —  how  that  besides  the  affection  that  was 
natural,  there  was  deep  respect  each  for  the  other,  and,  as 
one  might  say,  a  most  tender  friendship.  What  joy  for  you 
that  your  father  Hved  to  witness  your  own  high  advance- 
ment!  What  joy  for  you  that  his  help  and  guidance  re- 
mained to  you  so  long  beyond  the  time  when  such  strength  is 
ordinarily  vouchsafed  !  But  while  to  you  and  to  all  belong- 
ing to  him  he  has  been  thus  so  priceless  a  blessing,  in  another 
sense  he  has  been  to  all  who  have  drawn  near  to  him  a  bene- 
factor of  the  mind  and  heart." 


170  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Coleridge  replied :  — 

"...  I   knew  that  you,  and  some  other  brothers  across 
the  water,  would  feel  with  us  and  for  us  in  our  sorrow — a 
very  great  and  indeed  at  times  almost  a  crushing  sorrow  it 
is.     I   think  my  father  was  the  most   beautiful  character  I 
ever  knew.     Looking  back   on  fifty  years  of   life,  I    really 
cannot   recollect   one    single   thing  in  which,   now,  I    think 
my  father   did    or  said  wrong.     His    gentleness,  tenderness 
never    failed   to  any  one,  or  under  any  circumstances,  and 
yet  he  was  as  brave  and  manly  a  man  as  ever  lived.     He 
never  shrank  from  doing  an  act  or  saying  a  thing,  which  he 
thought   right,  because  it  might  give  offence.     He  was,  all 
his  Hfe,  the  most  liberal  of  Conservatives,  and  was  constantly 
shocking  his  High  Church  Tory  friends,  by  doing  and  saying 
things  which  they  could  not  understand,  but  which  he  felt  it 
right  to  do  and  say,  though  it  pained  him  to  pain  them.     It 
is  quite  indescribable  the  loss  he  is  to  me,  and  even  more  to 
my  dear  sister  who  lived  with  him.     To  her  he  was  the  very 
centre  of  her  life,  and  her  life  seems  torn  up  by  the  roots. 
To  me  he  was  the  one  person  to  whom   I    could    turn    for 
sympathy  and  counsel  in  all  my  public  and  professional  life, 
and  never  did  he  fail  me :  so  that  a  large  portion  of  my  life 
must  now  needs  be  lonely,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  measure  the 
sadness  which   this  brings  with   it.     To  be  always  looking 
down  instead  of  looking  up,  as  hitherto  I  have  done  all  my 
lite,  is  a  solemn  change.     Our  loss  had  every  comfort  which 
such  a  loss  can  have;  the  kindness  of  friends,  the  respect 
and  regard  shown  him  by  the  whole  county  as  evidenced  in 
his  funeral  are  great  comforts,  no  doubt;   and  the  thought 
that  he  was  fit  to  go  and  did  not  wish  to  stay  is,  perhaps, 
the   greatest   of    all.      He    did    not    suffer    much    pain,   not 
even  in  the  very  last  illness,  but  he  was  weak  and  weary: 
his  journal  shows  that   hfe  was  a  sorrow  to  him,  and  cer- 
tainly he  was  taken  when  no  one  who  really  loved  him  could 
wish    that  he  should   be  left.     All  this  is  comforting,  and 
I  pray  God  it  may  be  more  so  —  but  my  father  is  dead:' 


JOHN-  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     171 

In  1S78  a  great  blow  fell  upon  Lord  Coleridge  in 
the  death  of  his  wife.  His  letter  in  reply  to  my 
words  of  sympathy  is  an  expression  of  deepest  grief, 
from  which  I  hardly  feel  that  I  can  quote ;  it  showed 
what  the  companionship  was  that  had  come  to  an 
end.  Lady  Coleridge  was  distinctly  of  genius  as  an 
artist.  Her  first  work  was  in  miniature  painting; 
later  on  she  drew,  in  crayon,  life-size  portraits,  of 
which  the  most  notable  were  of  her  father-in-law, 
Sir  John  Coleridge,  Cardinal  Newman,  and  Lord 
Coleridge.  These  are  of  remarkable  excellence.  She 
drew  also  for  the  staircase  at  Sussex  Square  —  Lord 
Coleridge's  London  residence  —  copies  from  Michael 
Angelo,  —  reproductions  in  crayon,  which,  under  great 
sheets  of  glass,  are  very  striking. 

In  the  Abbey  Church  of  St.  Mary  Ottery  is  the 
memorial  by  Lord  Coleridge  of  his  wife,  —  a  recum- 
bent effigy  of  singular  beauty;  at  the  base  is  this 
inscription :  — 

"  To  the  fair  and  tender  memory  of 
Jane  Fortescue,  Baroness  Coleridge, 
her  husband  dedicates  this  marble, 
thankful  for  his  happiness,  sorrowing  for 
his  loss,  hoping  steadfastly,  through 
God's  mercy,  to  meet  her  when  the 
night  is  passed,  in  the  perfect  and 
unending  day." 

Five  years  after  this  bereavement  of  Lord  Cole- 
ridge, he  made  a  visit  to  America.  He  came  in  1838 
at  the  invitation  of  the  Bar  Association  of  New 
York.       The    event    was    important,    seeing    that    he 


1/2  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

was  the  highest  Enghsh  official  that  had  ever  crossed 
the  Atlantic.  His  only  superior  was  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, but  his  coming  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  con- 
sidering his  solemn  charge  of  the  Great  Seal.  When 
Lord  Brougham  was  Chancellor,  he  was  meditating 
a  trip  to  the  Rhine,  but  found  he  would  be  unable 
to  leave  England  unless  he  placed  the  Great  Seal 
in  commission.  The  cost  of  this  would  have  been 
;^i400.  I  remember  hearing  Mr.  Forster,  then  a 
Cabinet  Minister,  ask  in  a  cheerful  way  at  his  own 
table  whether  the  Lord  Chancellor  slept  with  the 
Great  Seal. 

The  legal  profession,  wherever  Lord  Coleridge 
went  in  the  United  States,  received  him  with  great 
distinction.  He  figured  to  them  the  source  and  cen- 
tre of  their  knowledge.  He  charmed  every  one  by 
his  urbanity,  by  the  silver  tones  of  his  voice,  by  his 
delightful  talk,  and  his  great  store  of  knowledge. 
Mr.  G.  W.  Russell,  a  man  of  great  experience  of 
English  society,  has  recently  said:  — 

"  I  had  an  almost  fanatical  admiration  for  Lord  Coleridge's 
genius ;  in  many  of  the  qualities  which  make  an  agreeable 
talker  he  was  unsurpassed.  Every  one  who  heard  him  at  the 
Bar  or  on  the  Bench,  must  recall  that  silvery  voice,  and  that 
perfect  elocution,  which  prompted  a  competent  judge  of  such 
matters  to  say,  'I  should  enjoy  Hstening  to  Coleridge  if  he 
only  read  out  a  page  of  Bradshaw.'  To  these  gifts  were 
added  an  immense  store  of  varied  knowledge,  a  genuine 
enthusiasm  for  whatever  is  beautiful  in  literature  or  art,  an 
inexhaustible  copiousness  of  anecdote,  and  a  happy  knack  of 
exact  yet  not  offensive  mimicry.     All  this,  at  a  dinner  table 


JOHiY  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     173 

was  delightful ;   and  everything  derived  a  double  zest  from 
the  exquisite  precision  of  English  in  which  it  was  conveyed." 

Lord  Coleridge,  I  am  glad  to  say,  was  very  favour- 
ably impressed  with  the  leading  lawyers  and  judges 
whom  he  met  in  the  United  States.  In  the  West 
especially,  he  came  to  know  men  who  seemed  to 
him  of  real  distinction.  Judge  Drummond,  of  Chi- 
cago, I  remember,  impressed  him  greatly.  He  had 
grateful  recollection  always  of  the  kindness  that  had 
been  shown  him.  "  I  should  be  afraid  to  2:0  ao:ain," 
he  said,  "lest  I  should  be  found  out."  He  said  also, 
writing  eight  years  after  his  visit,  "  I  am  never  tired  of 
thinking  of  the  noble  Americans  I  met,  and  whom  I 
shall  never  see  again."  It  is  curious  to  note,  as  show- 
ing a  state  of  things  which  we  can  hope  has  passed 
away,  that  an  army  officer  was  detailed  by  our  Gov- 
ernment to  accompany  Lord  Coleridge  in  his  jour- 
neyings,  and  detectives  also  were  at  hand  for  his 
protection.  It  was  the  time  when  Irish  outrages  were 
of  constant  occurrence.  It  was  the  wish  of  his  own  Gov- 
ernment that  he  should  not  visit  Canada  ;  they  thought 
the  danger  would  be  greater  there  than  in  the  United 
States.  I  remember  telling  him  that  if  a  murderous 
attack  were  made  upon  him,  there  might  be  consola- 
tion in  the  thought  that  in  America  and  in  England 
indignation  would  be  so  great  as  to  put  an  end  for- 
ever to  Irish  violence.  He  refused  to  admit  there 
would  be  any  comfort  in  this  consideration.  "  You 
would  prefer,"  I  said,  "  that  the  risk  should  be  taken 
by  a  minor  canon }  "  reminding  him  of  a  story  of  his 


174  WORDSWORTH  AN-D   THE  COLERIDGES 

father's  of  a  meeting  with  Sydney  Smith.  A  bishop 
who  was  present  had  just  finished  the  rebuilding  of 
his  palace,  and  was  doubtful  whether  it  w^ould  be  safe 
to  occupy  it  at  once.  "  My  Lord,"  said  Sydney, 
"  could  you  not  send  down  one  of  the  minor  canons 
to  begin  residence  ?  " 

While  Lord  Coleridge  was  in  America,  some  family 
matters,  very  distressing  to  him,  culminated,  making 
his  home  dreary  on  his  return.  Two  years  later  he 
married  Mrs.  Lawford,  daughter  of  an  English  judge, 
whose  chief  service  had  been  in  India.  Nine  years 
remained  to  him  of  life,  in  which  the  duties  of  his 
high  office  occupied  him,  relieved  in  London  by  the 
exercise  of  a  graceful  hospitality.  His  stately  home 
in  Sussex  Square  had  the  especial  adornment  of  a 
magnificent  library.  His  chief  enjoyment,  however, 
was  probably  his  Devonshire  residence,  Heath's  Court, 
which  he  had  enlarged  and  beautified  under  the  di- 
rection of  his  lifelong  friend,  Mr.  Butterfield.  There, 
too,  he  delighted  to  show  hospitality,  entertaining  dur- 
ing the  long  vacation  a  constant  succession  of  visitors. 
The  drawing-room  there  remained  as  it  was  in  the 
time  of  his  father.  The  library  was  new,  —  a  room 
of  great  size,  —  large  spaces  on  the  shelves  were 
unoccupied,  for  the  books  at  Sussex  Square  were  to 
be  placed  there  on  Lord  Coleridge's  retiring  from  the 
Bench.  Alas !  he  did  not  live  to  complete  the  term 
of  service  that  would  entitle  him  to  retire  on  a  pen- 
sion. The  books  already  in  the  great  room  were  some 
4000  in  number,  chiefly  the  collection  of  his  father. 


JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     175 

My  last  visit  to  Lord  Coleridge  at  his  Devonshire 
home  was  at  the  beginning  of  June,  1891.  In  his 
kind  note,  asking  me  to  come,  he  said  he  and  Lady- 
Coleridge  would  be  alone  there ;  there  would  be  no 
other  guests ;  nothing  to  disturb  or  distract.  So  I 
went,  and  had  three  days  of  the  happiest  companion- 
ship, and  was  more  than  ever  struck  with  the  affec- 
tionate nature  of  my  friend.  "  Lord  Coleridge  has 
been  unendingly  kind,"  was  the  remark  of  Mrs.  Mat- 
thew Arnold  to  me,  referring  to  what  he  had  done  for 
her  since  the  death  of  her  husband.  I  can  add  from 
my  own  experience  that  as  a  friend  he  was  the  most 
steadfast  of  men. 

Within  a  week  after  my  leaving  Heath's  Court  I 
was  Lord  Coleridge's  guest  in  London.  He  had 
arranged  for  my  being  present  at  a  great  dinner  in 
the  Hall  of  the  Middle  Temple  at  which  he  was  to 
preside.  The  chief  guest  for  this  occasion  was  to  be 
the  young  Duke  of  Clarence,  the  heir  to  the  throne. 
The  company  gathered  for  the  banquet  in  one  of 
the  drawing-rooms  of  the  great  hall.  Each  on  arriv- 
ing was  announced  in  a  loud  voice.  All  were  ready 
except  the  chief  guest.  "  How  long  must  we  wait 
for  a  Royal  Highness? "  asked  Lord  Strafford  of  the 
one  next  him.  "  Oh,  till  he  comes,"  was  the  reply. 
At  length  came  the  announcement, "  His  Royal  High- 
ness, the  Duke  of  Clarence  and  Avondale."  A  tall 
youth,  self-possessed,  his  face  with  a  pleasant  expres- 
sion, a  broad  blue  ribbon,  I  suppose  of  the  Garter, 
was  across  his  breast.    An  equerry  accompanied  him. 


176  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Lord  Coleridge  advanced  to  meet  him.     Soon  came 
the  great  voice  at  the  door,  "Your  Royal  Highness, 
my  Lords  and  Gentlemen,  dinner  is  served."     Then 
names  were  called  and  men  walked  out  two  by  two. 
Each  guest  was  assigned  to  a  bencher.     What  a  sight 
it  was  as  we  entered  the  great  hall !     The  long  tables 
running  at  right  angles  to  the  dais  were  filled  with  a 
great  multitude  either  of  barristers  or  students.     All 
were    standing   as    our   procession,  headed   by  Lord 
Coleridge   and    the    Prince,   walked    up.      I    noticed 
some  dark  skinned  men  among  the  students,  one  of 
inky  blackness.     We  took  our  allotted  places  at  the 
table  on   the   dais;    then  grace  was  read  by  Canon 
Ainger,   Reader   of   the    Temple  —  an    ancient  form. 
The   Prince  was    on    the    right    of    Lord    Coleridge; 
behind  his  chair  was  his  own  footman  or  servant  in 
the    royal    scarlet    and   gold  —  a    fine-looking   fellow. 
In   the  middle    of   the   dinner  came  three  loud  raps 
on  the  table  from  the  Master  of  Ceremonies.     "My 
Lords    and    Gentlemen,    I    pray   you    charge    your 
glasses!"      All  rose,  and  Lord  Coleridge  gave  "the 
health    of    her    Majesty    the    Queen."      A    hip,    hip, 
hurrah,  followed,   and   we   sat   down.     A    little   later 
came  another  three  raps  and  another  "  Charge    your 
glasses,"  and  the  health  of  his  Royal   Highness,  the 
Duke  of   Clarence  was  proposed.     The  Duke  as  he 
sat  bowed  gracefully  and  repeatedly  from  side  to  side 
to  the  standing  company.     It  is  the  settled   rule    or 
understanding  at  the  dinners  of  the  Middle  Temple 
that  there  are  to  be  no  speeches.     At  a  great  dinner 


JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     177 

there  of  the  previous  month  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was  the  chief  guest.  Lord  Coleridge  proposed  his 
health,  and  the  Prince,  as  being  above  ordinary  rules, 
gave  a  few  words  of  acknowledgment,  and  ended  by- 
proposing  the  health  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice.  Lord 
Coleridge  rose  and  acknowledged  the  courtesy,  add- 
ing, "  The  text  that  rises  to  my  mind  as  I  thus  re- 
turn my  thanks  is  — '  Put  not  your  trust  in  Princes.'" 
He  then  sat  down.  The  Prince's  little  scheme  failed 
of  success.  Later  came  the  loving  cup,  and  at  last 
another  rap  on  the  table  when  all  rose  and  Canon 
Ainger  read  a  quaint  form  of  words  which  was  the 
giving  of  thanks.  The  dinner  was  not  over,  for, 
Lord  Coleridge  and  the  Prince  leading  the  way,  we 
retired  from  the  noble  hall,  in  procession  as  we  had 
come  in,  and  entered  another  apartment  in  which 
was  a  table  with  dessert.  Our  final  move  was  into 
a  drawing-room  where  there  was  coffee. 

The  Prince  and  his  equerry  having  at  length  de- 
parted, the  rest  of  the  company  were  free  to  go  their 
way. 

At  breakfast,  the  morning  after  this  Middle  Temple 
function,  Lord  Coleridge  asked  me  if  I  would  not  like 
to  look  in  on  the  Gordon  Cumming  trial  —  the  famous 
baccayat  case.  I  would,  certainly.  I  would  not  have 
asked  for  admission  knowing  the  pressure  there  had 
been  on  the  Chief  for  seats.  I  drove  down  with  him 
to  the  Law  Courts.  People  were  waiting  to  see  the 
Lord  Chief  Justice  arrive.  The  Chief  went  to  his 
apartment    to    put    on    his    robes    and    wig.       I    was 


178  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

shown  a  seat  on  the  Bench.  As  I  entered  there 
was  the  entire  space  of  the  Court  filled  with  barris- 
ters in  costume  sitting  closely  together,  and  above 
was  the  crowded  gallery.  A  bevy  of  ladies  came  in 
and  filled  the  space  on  the  right  of  the  Judge's  seat. 
My  seat,  I  should  say,  was  on  the  extreme  left.  Im- 
mediately next  the  Judge's  seat  on  the  left  was  a  red 
cushioned  armchair  for  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Lord 
Coleridge  came  in  and  all  in  the  Court  rose.  Soon 
afterward  came  the  Prince  of  Wales.  He  bowed 
pleasantly  to  the  Chief  Justice  and  then  to  the  ladies 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left.  My  recollection  is  that 
no  one  rose  as  he  entered  except  the  Chief  Justice. 
I  saw  his  side  face  as  I  sat.  His  bearing  was  quiet 
and  composed.  At  eleven  Sir  Charles  Russell  (now 
the  Lord  Chief  Justice)  rose  to  begin  his  speech  for 
the  defence.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Sir  William 
Gordon  Cumming  was  the  plaintiff;  the  defendants 
were  five  persons  whom  he  charged  with  defamation 
of  character.  Sir  Charles  bore  terribly  upon  Gordon 
Cumming  in  his  speech,  which  lasted  for  an  hour 
and  a  half;  his  guilt  seemed  clear  beyond  question. 
Yet  one  hoped  against  hope  for  him,  for  he  was  a 
soldier  of  gallant  record  and  was  of  ancient  family. 
The  first  witness  for  the  defence  was  young  Wil- 
son ;  he  had  been  the  first  to  see  the  foul  play.  He 
told  his  story  well.  I  could  not  stay  for  the  cross- 
examination,  nor  could  I  go  next  day  to  hear  Lord 
Coleridge's  charge.  A  masterpiece  this  seemed  to 
me  as  I  read  it  in  the  Times ;  it  occupied  four  hours 


JOHN  TAYLOR   COLERIDGE  AND  LORD  COLERIDGE     179 

in  the  delivery.  Lord  Coleridge,  as  I  know,  dreaded 
having  to  try  the  case ;  but  once  it  was  entered  upon 
he  gave  it  the  most  careful  thought. 

I  may  mention  that  when  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was  examined  as  a  witness  in  the  case,  the  lawyers 
on  both  sides  forbore  to  ask  the  direct  question 
whether  he  believed  the  plaintiff  was  guilty.  At 
the  end  of  his  testimony,  one  of  the  jury  rose  and 
asked,  "  Your  Royal  Highness,  did  you  believe  Sir 
Gordon  Gumming  was  cheating  '^.  "  The  Prince's 
immediate  reply  was,  "  I  could  not  resist  the  testi- 
mony of  five  persons." 

I  had  other  experience  of  the  administration  of 
law  in  England,  as  I  chanced  to  be  Lord  Goleridge's 
guest  when  he  was  on  circuit,  —  at  Gloucester,  at 
Bury  St.  Edmund's,  and  at  Manchester.  The  old- 
time  pomp  of  these  occasions  was  interesting  to 
me,  —  the  going  in  state  from  the  Judges'  Lodgings 
to  the  Court,  or,  if  it  were  Sunday,  to  the  Cathedral, 
the  new  liveries  and  perhaps  the  new  equipages  of 
the  high  sheriffs,  the  javelin  men  in  procession, 
and  the  "  God  save  the  Queen  "  from  a  single  trum- 
pet at  the  departure  from  the  Lodgings,  or  when 
the  Cathedral  or  the  Court  was  reached,  —  all  this 
was  striking.  The  buildings  known  as  the  Judges' 
Lodgings  in  the  Assize  towns,  though  often  quaint 
and  ancient,  are  ample  for  the  exercise  of  hospitality 
of  bed  and  board. 

Every  hour  of  my  stay  with  my  friend  was  of  en- 
joyment   to  me,  wherever  it  might    be.     I    have  not 


l8o  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE  COLERIDGES 

spoken  of  the  happiness  enjoyed  by  me  and  mine 
in  receiving  him  under  our  roof.  He  was  fasci- 
nating to  young  and  old.  He  could  not  but  feel 
how  absolutely  at  one  with  him  we  all  were,  and  he 
could  feel  as  to  myself,  as  I  did  as  to  him,  that 
friendship  had  been  cemented  by  a  great  lapse  of 
years. 

Lord  Coleridge  died  in  London,  on  June  14,, 
1894.     On  that  day  I  wrote  in  my  journal:  — 

"...  The  blow  to  me  is  heavy.  I  came  to  know  John 
Coleridge,  as  he  then  was,  in  1855.  My  correspondence 
with  him  began  in  the  following  year,  and  has  had  no  check 
until  now.  I  have  kept  every  letter.  I  have  some  of  them 
near  me  as  I  write ;  and  as  I  read  them,  here  and  there,  he 
is  again  before  me,  and  I  am  listening  to  the  tender,  sweet 
tones  of  his  voice.  They  are  a  priceless  possession,  for,  at 
any  moment,  I  can  feel  that  I  am  once  more  with  him.  I 
owe  to  him  more  than  I  can  say.  His  fine  intellect  fasci- 
nated me,  and  gave  bent  to  my  thoughts,  and  left  on  me 
enduring  impression." 

He  said  to  me  in  almost  his  last  letter,  "  I  have 
kept  all  your  letters."  I  have  not  as  yet  received 
these  from  London,  but  their  return  is  promised  me. 
It  may  chance  that  those  who  come  after  me  will 
put  in  print  a  correspondence  between  England  and 
America  during  thirty-seven  eventful  years.  Whether 
I  receive  back  my  letters  or  no,  there  will  be  safe- 
keeping here  of  his.  They  are  more  than  one  hun- 
dred in  number,  and  hardly  one  of  them  is  without 
passages  of  distinct  literary  value. 


CHARLES    KINGSLEY:    A    REMINIS- 
CENCE 


CHARLES    KINGSLEY:    A    REMINIS- 
CENCE 

The  heat  of  London  in  the  midsummer  of  1857, 
even  to  my  American  apprehension,  was  intense. 
The  noise  of  the  streets  oppressed  me,  and  perhaps 
the  sight  now  and  again  of  freshly-watered  flowers, 
which  beautify  so  many  of  the  window-ledges,  and 
which  seem  to  flourish  and  bloom  whatever  the 
weather,  filled  me  the  more  with  a  desire  for  the 
quiet  of  green  fields  and  the  refreshing  shade  of 
trees.  I  had  just  returned  from  Switzerland,  and 
the  friends  with  whom  I  had  been  journeying  in 
that  land  of  all  perfections  had  gone  back  to  their 
home  amons:  the  wealds  and  woods  of  Essex.  I 
began  to  feel  that  sense  of  solitude  which  weighs 
heavily  on  a  stranger  in  the  throng  of  a  great  city; 
so  that  it  was  with  keen  pleasure  I  looked  forward 
to  a  visit  to  Mr.  Kingsley.  A  most  kind  invitation 
had  come  from  him,  offering  me  "a  bed  and  all 
hospitality  in  their  plain  country  fashion." 

At  four  in  the  afternoon  of  a  hot  July  day,  I 
started  for  Winchfield,  which  is  the  station  on  the 
London  and  Southampton  Railway  nearest  to  Evers- 
ley  —  a  journey  of  an  hour  and  a  half.  I  took  a  fly 
at  Winchfield   for  Eversley,  a  distance  of  six  miles. 

183 


1 84  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

My  way  lay  over  wide  silent  moors ;  now  and  then 
a  quiet  farmstead  came  in  view  —  moated  granges 
they  might  have  been  —  but  these  were  few  and  far 
between,  this  part  of  Hampshire  being  owned  in 
large  tracts.  It  was  a  little  after  six  when  I  drew 
near  to  the  church  and  antique  brick  dwelling-house 
adjoining  it  which  were  the  church  and  rectory  of 
Eversley.  There  were  no  other  houses  near,  so  that 
it  was  evidently  a  wide  and  scattered  parish.  Old 
trees  shaded  the  venerable,  irregularly-shaped  par- 
sonage, ivy  and  creeping  plants  covered  the  walls, 
and  roses  peeped  out  here  and  there.  Mr.  Kingsley 
himself  met  me  at  the  open  hall-door,  and  there 
was  somethino;  in  his  clear  and  cheerful  tone  that 
gave  a  peculiar  sense  of  welcome  to  his  greeting. 
"  Very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  he.  Then  taking  my 
bag  from  the  fly,  "  Let  me  show  you  your  room  at 
once,  that  you  may  make  yourself  comfortable."  So, 
leading  the  way,  he  conducted  me  upstairs  and  along 
a  somewhat  intricate  passage  to  a  room  in  the  oldest 
part  of  the  house.  It  was  a  quaint  apartment,  with 
leaden  casements,  a  low  ceiling,  an  uneven  floor  — 
a  room  four  hundred  years  old,  as  Mr,  Kingsley  told 
me,  but  having  withal  a  very  habitable  look.  "  I 
hope  you'll  be  comfortable  here,"  said  my  host  as 
he  turned  to  go  — "  as  comfortable  as  one  can  be  in 
a  cottage.  Have  you  everything  you  want }  There 
will  be  a  tea-dinner  or  a  dinner-tea  in  about  half  an 
hour."  Then,  as  he  lingered,  he  asked,  "  When  did 
you  see  Forster  last  .'*  " 


CHARLES  KINGS  LEY:  A  REMINISCENCE  185 

"Six  weeks  ago,"  I  said  —  "in  London.  He  had 
just  received  news  of  the  vacancy  at  Leeds,  and  at 
once  determined  to  offer  himself  as  the  Liberal 
candidate.  He  went  to  Leeds  for  this  purpose,  but 
subsequently  withdrew  his  name.  I  gather  from  his 
speech  at  the  banquet  his  supporters  gave  him  after- 
ward that  this  was  a  mistake,  and  that  if  he  had 
stood  he  would  have  been  elected," 

"  Ah,"  said  Kingsley,  "  I  should  like  to  see  Fors- 
ter  in  Parliament.  He  is  not  the  man,  however, 
to  make  head  against  the  tracasseries  of  an  election 
contest." 

Some  other  talk  we  had,  and  then  he  left  me, 
coming  back  before  long  to  conduct  me  to  the 
drawing-room.  Two  gentlemen  were  there,  —  one  a 
visitor  who  soon  took  leave ;  the  other,  the  tutor 
to  Mr.  Kingsley's  son.  Mrs.  Kingsley  came  in  now 
and  shook  hands  with  me  cordially,  and  I  had  very 
soon  the  sense  of  being  at  one  with  them  all.  Our 
having  mutual  friends  did  much  toward  this  good 
understanding,  but  it  was  partly  that  w^e  seemed  at 
once  to  have  so  much  to  talk  of  on  the  events  of 
the  day,  and  on  English  matters  in  which  I  took 
keen  interest. 

India  was  naturally  our  first  subject,  and  the 
great  and  absorbing  question  of  the  mutiny.  I  told 
what  the  London  news  was  in  regard  to  it,  and  how 
serious  was  the  look  of  things.  Kingsley  said  there 
must  be  great  blame  somewhere  —  that  as  to  the 
British    rule  in    India,  no  man  could    doubt    that    it 


1 86  WORDSWORTH  AXD   THE  COLERIDGES 

had  been  a  great  blessing  to  the  countr}',  but  the 
individual  Englishman  had  come  ver}^  far  short  of 
his  duty  in  his  dealings  with  the  subject  race;  a 
reckoning  was  sure  to  come.  "'  Oakfield  "  was  men- 
tioned.—  a  story  by  William  Arnold  of  which  the 
scene  was  laid  in  India,  and  which  contained  evi- 
dence of  this  ill-treatment  of  the  Hindoos  by  their 
white  masters.  Kingsley  spoke  highly  of  this  book. 
I  said  I  thought  it  had  hardly  been  appreciated  in 
England.  Kin^slev  thouo^ht  the  reason  was  it  was 
too  didactic  —  there  was  too  much  moralizing.  Only 
the  few  could  appreciate  this ;  the  many  did  not  care 
for  it  in  a  novel. 

Our  tea-dinner  was  announced  :  it  was  ser\-ed  in 
the  hall.  Mrs.  Kingsley  spoke  laughingly  of  their 
being  obliged  to  make  this  their  dining  room.  The 
talk  at  the  table  fell  on  American  affairs.  Sumner's 
name  was  mentioned.  I  said  he  was  in  London,  and 
that  I  had  had  a  long  conversation  \A\kv  him  a  few 
days  before.  Would  I  give  them  his  address  ?  they 
asked  :  they  must  have  a  visit  from  him.  I  said  he 
would  be  glad  to  visit  them.  I  was  sure,  for  when  I 
told  him  I  was  coming  here  he  said  he  envied  me. 
He  was  at  present  engaged  in  a  round  of  dinners  — 
expected  to  go  to  France  in  August  to  stay  with  De 
Tocquedlle,  but  would  be  again  in  England  in  the 
autumn.  Kingsley  spoke  of  Brooks's  death — of  the 
suddenness  of  it  seeming  almost  a  judgment.  I  said 
Brooks,  as  I  happened  to  know,  was  thought  a  good 
fellow   before  the  assault — that  he  really  had  good 


CHARLES  KIXGSLEY:  A   REMIXISCEXCE  187 

qualities,  and  was  liked  even  by  Northern  men.  "  So 
we  have  heard  from  others,"  said  Kingsley,  "  and  one 
can  well  believe  it.  The  man  who  suffers  for  a  bad 
system  is  often  the  best  man  —  one  with  attractive 
qualities."  Charles  I.  and  Louis  X\'I.  were  instances 
he  gave  to  illustrate  this.  A  recent  article  in  the 
Edinbiirgh  Rcvieiu  on  slavery  was  spoken  of.  I  said 
it  had  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention  with  us,  be- 
cause we  saw  immediately  it  could  only  have  been 
written  bv  an  American.  Of  slaven,'  Mr.  Kino-slev 
spoke  in  calm  and  moderate  words.  I  told  him  his 
introductory  chapter  to  "  Two  Years  Ago  "  showed  that 
he  appreciated  the  difficulties  with  which  the  question 
was  encumbered.  He  said  it  would  be  strange  if  he 
did  not  see  these  difficulties,  considerins;  that  he  was 
of  West  Indian  descent  (his  2;randfather  had  married 
a  West  Indian  heiress).  He  admitted  that  the  result 
of  emancipation  in  the  West  Indies  was  not  encourag- 
ing as  it  regarded  the  material  condition  of  the  isl- 
ands, especially  of  Jamaica,  and  he  was  quite  able  to 
understand  how  powerfully  this  fact  would  weigh  on 
our  Southern  planters,  and  how  it  tended  to  close 
their  ears  to  all  antislaver}'  argument.  They  could 
hardly  be  expected  to  look  beyond  this  test  of  sugar- 
production  to  the  moral  progress  of  the  black  race 
which  freedom  alone  could  insure. 

Our  pleasant  meal  being  over,  we  strolled  out  on 
the  lawn  and  sat  down  under  one  of  the  fine  old  trees, 
where  we  continued  our  talk  about  slaverv.  Mr. 
Kingsley  said   he  could    quite    believe  any   story  he 


1 88  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

might  hear  of  cruelty  practised  upon  slaves.  He 
knew  too  well  his  own  nature,  and  felt  that  under  the 
influence  of  sudden  anger  he  would  be  capable  of 
deeds  as  violent  as  any  of  which  we  read.  This,  of 
course,  was  putting  out  of  view  the  restraints  which 
religion  would  impose  ;  but  it  was  safe  for  no  man  to 
have  the  absolute  control  of  others. 

He  left  us  to  go  into  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Kingsley 
then  spoke  of  his  parochial  labours.  She  wished  I 
could  spend  a  Sunday  with  them  —  "  I  should  so  like 
you  to  see  the  congregation  he  has.  The  common 
farm  labourers  come  morning  and  afternoon  :  the  rea- 
son is,  he  preaches  so  that  they  can  understand  him. 
I  wish  you  could  have  been  with  us  last  Sunday,  we 
had  such  an  interesting  person  here  —  Max  Miiller, 
the  sreat  linguist  and  Orientalist.  But  we  can't  have 
pleasant  meets  here :  we  have  only  one  spare  room." 

"  How  old  is  Max  Miiller  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Twenty-eight,  and  he  scarcely  looks  to  be  twenty- 
two." 

"  How  long  has  Mr.  Kingsley  been  here  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Fifteen  years  —  two  years  as  curate,  and  then  the 
living  becoming  vacant,  it  was  given  to  him." 

She  told  me  a  funeral  was  to  take  place  directly  — 
that  of  a  poor  woman  who  had  been  a  great  sufferer. 
"Ah,  here  it  comes,"  she  said. 

There  was  the  bier  borne  on  men's  shoulders  and 
a  little  company  of  mourners,  the  peasantry  of  the 
neighbourhood,  the  men  wearing  smock-frocks.  They 
were   awaiting  the  clergyman   at  the  lich-gate.     Mr. 


CHARLES  KINGSLEV:  A  REMINISCENCE  1 89 

Kingsley  appeared  at  the  moment  in  his  surphce,  and 
the  procession  entered  the  churchyard,  he  saying  as  he 
walked  in  front  the  solemn  sentences  with  which  the 
service  begins.  It  was  the  scene  which  I  had  witnessed 
in  another  part  of  Hampshire  some  years  before,  when 
the  author  of  "  The  Christian  Year  "  was  the  officiat- 
ing clergyman.  Mrs.  Kingsley  and  I  joined  the  proces- 
sion and  entered  the  church.  It  was  a  small,  oddly 
arranged  interior  —  brick  pavements,  high-backed 
pews,  the  clerk's  desk  adjoining  the  reading-desk,  but 
a  little  lower.  Mr.  Kingsley  read  the  service  in  a 
measured  tone,  which  enabled  him  to  overcome  the 
defect  in  his  utterance  noticeable  in  conversation. 
At  the  grave  the  rest  of  the  office  was  said,  and  here 
the  grief  of  the  poor  mourners  overcame  them.  The 
family  group  consisted  of  the  husband  of  the  deceased, 
a  grown-up  daughter,  and  a  son,  a  boy  of  fifteen.  All 
were  much  moved,  but  the  boy  the  most.  He  cried 
bitterly  —  a  long  wail,  as  if  he  could  not  be  comforted. 
Mr.  Kingsley  tried  to  console  him,  putting  his  arm 
over  his  shoulders.  He  said  words  of  sympathy  to 
the  others  also.  They  went  their  way  over  the  heath 
to  their  desolate  home.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kingsley  spoke 
of  the  life  of  toil  which  had  thus  ended,  and  of  the 
patience  with  which  long-continued  bodily  pain  had 
been  borne.  It  was  clear  that  the  popular  author  was 
first  of  all  a  parish  priest. 

We  went  now  into  his  study,  where  he  lighted  a 
long  pipe,  and  w-e  then  returned  to  a  part  of  the  lawn 
which  he  called  his  quarter-deck,  and  where  we  walked 


igo  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

up  and  down  for  near  an  hour.  What  an  English  sum- 
mer evening  it  was  !  —  dewy  and  still.  Now  and  then 
a  slight  breeze  stirred  in  the  leaves  and  brought  with 
it  wafts  of  delicate  odours  from  the  flowers  somewhere 
hidden  in  deep  shadows,  though  as  yet  it  was  not 
night  and  the  sweet  twilight  lay  about  us  like  a  charm. 
He  asked  if  I  knew  Maurice.  I  did  slightly  —  had 
breakfasted  with  him  six  weeks  before,  and  had 
seen  enough  of  him  to  understand  the  strong  per- 
sonal influence  he  exerted.  "  I  owe  all  that  I  am 
to  Maurice,"  said  Kingsley.  "  I  aim  only  to  teach 
to  others  what  I  get  from  him.  Whatever  facility 
of  expression  I  have  is  God's  gift,  but  the  views  I 
endeavour  to  enforce  are  those  which  I  learn  from 
Maurice.  I  live  to  interpret  him  to  the  people  of 
England." 

A  talk  about  the  influence  of  the  Oxford  writers 
came  next :  on  this  subject  I  knew  we  should  not 
agree,  though  of  course  it  was  interesting  to  me  to 
hear  Mr.  Kingsley's  opinion.  He  spoke  with  some 
asperity  of  one  or  two  of  the  leaders,  though  his  chief 
objection  was  to  certain  young  men  who  had  put 
themselves  forward  as  champions  of  the  movement. 
Of  Mr.  Keble  he  spoke  very  kindly.  He  said  he 
had  at  one  time  been  much  under  the  influence 
of  these  writings.  I  mentioned  Alexander  Knox 
as  being  perhaps  the  forerunner  of  the  Oxford  men. 
"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  I  owe  my  knowledge  of  that  good 
man  to  Mrs.  Kingsley ;  you  must  talk  with  her 
about  him."     We  joined  the  party  in  the  drawing- 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY:  A  REMINISCENCE  191 

room,  and  there  was  some  further  conversation  on 
this  subject. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  the  bell  was  rung,  the  servants 
came  in,  prayers  were  said,  and  the  ladies  (Mrs. 
Kingsley  and  their  daughter's  governess)  bid  us  good 
night.  Then  to  Mr.  Kingsley's  study,  where  the  rest 
of  the  evening  was  spent  —  from  half-past  ten  to  half- 
past  twelve  —  the  pipe  went  on,  and  the  talk  —  a  con- 
tinuous flow.  Quakerism  was  a  subject.  George  Fox, 
Kingsley  said,  was  his  admiration  :  he  read  his  "  Jour- 
nal" constantly  —  thought  him  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able men  that  age  produced.  He  liked  his  hostility  to 
Calvinism.  "  How  little  that  fellow  Macaulay,"  he 
said,  "  could  understand  Quakerism !  A  man  needs 
to  have  been  in  Inferno  himself  to  know  what  the 
Quakers  meant  in  what  they  said  and  did."  He 
referred  me  to  an  article  of  his  on  Jacob  Boehme  and 
the  mystic  writers,  in  which  he  had  given  his  views  in 
regard  to  Fox. 

We  talked  about  his  parish  work:  he  found  it,  he 
said,  a  great  help  to  him,  adding  emphatically  that  his 
other  labour  was  secondary  to  this.  He  had  trained 
himself  not  to  be  annoyed  by  his  people  calling  on 
him  when  he  was  writing.  If  he  was  to  be  their 
priest,  he  must  see  them  when  it  suited  them  to 
come ;  and  he  had  become  able  if  called  off  from  his 
writine  to  sfo  on  ag-ain  the  moment  he  was  alone. 
I  asked  him  when  he  wrote.  He  said  in  the  morn- 
ing almost  always:  sometimes,  when  much  pushed,  he 
had  written  for  an  hour  in  the  evening,  but  he  always 


192 


WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 


had  to  correct  largely  the  next  morning  the  work 
thus  done.  Daily  exercise,  riding,  hunting,  together 
with  parish  work,  were  necessary  to  keep  him  in  a 
condition  for  writing:  he  aimed  to  keep  himself  in 
rude  health.  I  asked  whether  "  Alton  Locke "  had 
been  written  in  that  room.  "Yes,"  he  said  —  "from 
four  to  eight  in  the  mornings ;  and  a  young  man  was 
staying  with  me  at  the  time  with  w^hom  every  day  I 
used  to  ride,  or  perhaps  hunt,  when  my  task  of  writ- 
ing was  done." 

A  fine  copy  of  St.  Augustine  attracted  my  attention 
on  his  shelves  —  five  volumes  folio  bound  in  vellum. 
"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  that  is  a  treasure  I  must  show  you ; " 
and  taking  down  a  volume  he  turned  to  the  fly- 
leaf, where  were  the  words  "  Charles  Kingsley  from 
Thomas  Carlyle,"  and  above  them  "  Thomas  Carlyle 
from  John  Sterling."  One  could  understand  that 
Carlyle  had  thus  handed  on  the  book,  notwithstand- 
ing its  sacred  associations,  knowing  that  to  Kingsley 
it  would  have  a  threefold  value.  My  eye  caught  also 
a  relic  of  curious  interest  —  a  fragment  from  one  of 
the  vessels  of  the  Spanish  Armada.  It  lay  on  the 
mantelpiece:  I  could  well  understand  Kingsley's 
pleasure  in  possessing  it. 

At  the  breakfast-table  the  next  morning  we  had 
much  talk  in  regard  to  American  writers.  Kingsley 
admitted  Emerson's  high  merit,  but  thought  him  too 
fragmentary  a  writer  and  thinker  to  have  enduring 
fame.  He  had  meant  that  this  should  be  implied 
as  his  opinion  in  the  title  he  gave  to  "  Phaethon  "  — 


CHARLES  KLVGSLEY:  A   REMINISCENCE  193 

"Loose  Thoughts  for  Loose  Thinkers"  —  a  book  he 
had  written  in  direct  opposition  to  what  he  under- 
stood to  be  the  general  teaching  of  Emerson.  I  re- 
marked upon  the  great  beauty  of  some  of  Emerson's 
later  writino^s  and  the  marvellous  clearness  of  insis^ht 
which  was  shown  in  his  "  English  Traits."  Kingsley 
acquiesced  in  this,  but  referred  to  some  American 
poetry,  so  called,  which  Emerson  had  lately  edited, 
and  in  his  preface  had  out-Heroded  Herod.  Kings- 
ley  said  the  poems  were  the  production  of  a  coarse, 
sensual  mind.  His  reference,  of  course,  was  to  Walt 
Whitman,  and  I  had  no  defence  to  make.  Of  Lowell, 
Mr.  Kingsley  spoke  very  highly :  his  "  Fable  for  Critics  " 
was  worthy  of  Rabelais.  Mr.  Froude,  who  is  Kings- 
ley's  brother-in-law,  had  first  made  him  acquainted 
with  Lowell's  poetry.  Hawthorne's  style  he  thought 
was  exquisite :  there  was  scarcely  any  modern  writing 
equal  to  it.  Of  all  his  books  he  preferred  the  "  Blithe- 
dale  Romance." 

We  talked  of  Mr.  Froude,  whom  Kingsley  spoke 
of  as  his  dearest  friend:  he  thought  Froude  sincerely 
regretted  ever  having  written  the  "  Nemesis  of  Faith." 
Mr.  Helps,  author  of  "  Friends  in  Council,"  he  spoke 
of  as  his  near  neighbour  there  in  Hampshire,  and  his 
intimate  friend.  AL*.  Charles  Reade  he  knew,  and  I 
think  he  said  he  was  also  a  neighbour:  his  "  Christie 
Johnstone,"  he  thought  showed  high  original  power. 
Mrs.  Gaskell  we  talked  of,  whose  "  Life  of  Charlotte 
Bronte  "  had  just  then  been  published :  Mr.  Kingsley 
thought   it  extremely  interesting   and  "  slightly  slan- 


194  WORDSWORTH  Al^D   THE  COLERIDGES 

derous."  He  told  me  of  the  author  of  "  Tom  Brown's 
School-days,"  a  copy  of  which,  fresh  from  the  publish- 
ers, was  lying  on  his  table.  Mr.  Hughes  is  now  so 
well  known  to  us  I  need  only  mention  that  Mr. 
Kingsley  spoke  of  him  as  an  old  pupil  of  Arnold's 
and  a  spiritual  child  of  Maurice.  He  spoke  most 
warmly  of  him,  and  offered  me  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion to  him.  I  could  not  avail  myself  of  this,  having 
so  little  time  to  remain  in  London. 

I  must  mention,  as  showing  further  Mr.  Kingsley's 
state  of  mind  toward  Maurice,  that  he  had  named  his 
son  after  him.  He  spoke  of  the  boy  as  being  in- 
tended for  the  army;  the  family,  he  said,  had  been 
soldiers  for  generations.  "  That  is  the  profession  Eng- 
land will  need  for  the  next  five-and-twenty  years." 
Of  Forster  he  said,  "  What  a  pity  he  had  not  been 
put  in  the  army  at  the  age  of  eighteen !  —  he  would 
have  been  a  general  now.  England  has  need  of  such 
men."  I  note  this  as  showing  the  curious  apprehen- 
sion of  war  which  he,  an  Englishman,  felt  eighteen 
years  ago,^  and  which  he  expressed  to  me,  an  Ameri- 
can. How  little  either  of  us  thought  of  the  struggle 
which  men  of  English  blood  were  to  engage  in  in 
three  years  from  that  time !  How  little  I  could  dream 
that  one  of  the  decisive  battles  of  the  world  was  so 
soon  to  be  fought  in  my  own  State,  Pennsylvania ! 

Our  morning  was  spent  in  all  this  varied  talk,  walk- 
ing partly  on  the  lawn,  partly  in  the  study.  His  pipe 
was  still  his  companion.     He  seemed  to  need  to  walk 

^  Written  in  iSqv 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY:  A   REMINISCEMCE  1 95 

incessantly,  such  was  his  nervous  activity  of  tempera- 
ment. He  asked  me  if  it  annoyed  me  for  him  to 
walk  so  much  up  and  down  his  study.  The  slight 
impediment  in  his  speech  one  forgot  as  one-  listened 
to  the  flow  of  his  discourse.  He  talked  a  volume 
while  I  was  with  him,  and  what  he  said  often  rose  to 
eloquence.  There  was  humour  too  in  it,  of  which  I 
can  give  no  example,  for  it  was  fine  and  delicate. 
But  what  most  impressed  me  was  his  perfect  sim- 
plicity of  character.  He  talked  of  his  wife  with  the 
strongest  affection  —  wished  I  could  remain  longer 
with  them,  if  only  to  know  her  better.  Nothing  could 
be  more  tender  than  his  manner  toward  her.  He 
went  for  her  when  we  were  in  the  study,  and  the  last 
half  hour  of  my  stay  she  sat  with  us.  She  is  one  of 
five  sisters  who  are  all  married  to  eminent  men. 

It  occurs  to  me  to  note,  as  among  my  last  recollec- 
tions of  our  talk,  that  I  spoke  of  Spurgeon,  whom  I 
had  heard  in  London  a  short  time  before,  and  was 
very  favourably  impressed  with.  I  could  not  but  com- 
mend his  simple,  strong  Saxon  speech,  the  charm  of 
his  rich,  full  voice,  and  above  all  the  earnest  aim 
which  I  thought  was  manifest  in  all  he  uttered.     Mr. 

O 

Kingsley  said  he  was  glad  to  hear  this,  for  he  had 
been  told  of  occasional  irreverences  of  Spurgeon's, 
and  of  his  giving  way  now  and  then  to  a  disposition 
to  make  a  joke  of  things.  Not  that  he  objected  alto- 
gether to  humour  in  sermons:  he  had  his  own  temp- 
tations in  this  way.  "  One  must  either  weep  at  the 
follies  of  men  or  laugh  at  them,"  he  added.     I  told 


196  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE  COLERIDGES 

him  Mr.  Maurice  had  spoken  to  me  of  Mr.  Spurgeon 
as  no  doubt  an  important  influence  for  good  in  the 
land,  and  he  said  this  was  on  the  whole  his  own 
opinion.  He  told  me,  however,  of  teaching  of  quite 
another  character,  addressed  to  people  of  cultivation 
mainly,  and  to  him  peculiarly  acceptable.  His  refer- 
ence was  to  Robertson's  "  Sermons  " ;  he  showed  me 
the  volume  —  the  first  series  —  just  then  published. 
The  mention  of  this  book  perhaps  led  to  a  reference 
by  Mr.  Kingsley  to  the  Unitarians  of  New  England, 
of  whom  he  spoke  very  kindly,  adding,  in  effect,  that 
their  error  was  but  a  natural  rebound  from  Calvinism, 
that  dreary  perversion  of  God's  boundless  love. 

But  I  had  now  to  say  good-by  to  these  new  friends, 
who  had  come  to  seem  old  friends,  so  full  and  cordial 
had  been  their  hospitality,  and  so  much  had  we  found 
to  talk  of  in  the  quickly-passing  hours  of  my  visit. 
Mr.  Kingsley  drove  me  three  miles  on  my  way  to 
Winchfield.  His  talk  with  me  was  interspersed  with 
cheery  and  friendly  words  to  his  horse,  with  whom 
he  seemed  to  be  on  very  intimate  terms.  "  Come  and 
see  us  again,"  he  said,  as  we  parted ;  "  the  second  visit, 
you  know,  is  always  the  best." 


OXFORD,  AND  THE  AUTHOR  OF 
"THE  CHRISTIAN  YEAR" 


OXFORD,  AND  THE  AUTHOR  OF 
-THE  CHRISTIAN  YEAR" 

It  was  on  a  bright  morning  in  June,  1852,  that  I 
left  London  for  my  second  visit  to  Oxford.  The  fifty 
miles  journey  was  made  in  little  over  an  hour,  and 
soon  afterward  I  was  comfortably  quartered  at  the 
quaint  old  inn,  "  The  Mitre." 

I  found  the  streets  well  filled  ;  it  was  term-time  and 
the  undergraduates,  as  well  as  the  Fellows,  and  other 
university  men  were  everywhere  to  be  seen ;  their 
caps  and  gowns,  which  by  rigid  law  they  are  com- 
pelled to  wear,  adding  much  to  the  quaint  old-time 
look  of  the  city. 

I  called  in  the  afternoon  at  Oriel  College  to  deliver 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Rev.  Charles  Marriott, 
Fellow  of  Oriel  and  Vicar  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin's  — 
the  successor  of  Mr.  Newman,  holding  precisely  his 
position  in  the  university,  and  occupying  his  rooms. 
Not  finding  him,  I  went  at  four  to  the  cathedral,  which 
is  really  the  chapel  of  Christ  Church  College,  to  even- 
ing service.  I  had  the  hope  that  Dr.  Pusey  would 
be  there.  The  small  congregation  had  already  assem- 
bled. I  was  shown  by  the  verger  to  one  of  the  high 
stalls.  There  were  several  of  the  canons,  or  students 
of  the  college,  answering  to  the  Fellows  of  other  col- 

199 


200  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

leges,  present,  but  no  one  of  these  could  be  Dr.  Pusey. 
At  the  very  stroke  of  four  a  quick  step  was  heard,  a 
man  of  middle  age,  of  grave  countenance,  pale,  but 
seeming  vigorous,  came  in  and  went  to  a  stall  very 
near  me.  He  wore,  as  the  others  did,  a  surplice  and 
rose-lined  hood.  When  the  service  was  over  he 
passed  me  in  going  out,  and  I  had  a  full  view  of  his 
countenance.  I  was  struck  with  its  intellectual  ex- 
pression —  his  serious  thoughtful  look.  "  Is  that  Dr. 
Pusey  ?  "  I  asked  the  verger  at  the  door.  "  Yes,"  said 
he,  and  so  my  wish  was  gratified.  I  had  felt  for  him, 
for  years,  admiration  and  reverence  ;  the  sight  of  him, 
though  it  was  nothing  more,  gave  me  pleasure.  Al- 
ready he  had  become  the  most  conspicuous  figure  at 
Oxford,  though  the  period  of  which  I  write  was  forty- 
seven  years  ago  ;  and  this  in  spite  of  his  shrinking 
from  any  personal  distinction,  or  even  notice.  It  was 
a  true  instinct  of  the  popular  heart  that  affixed  his 
name  to  the  great  movement  of  1833,  although  New- 
man had  more  to  do  with  its  actual  beginning  than 
he.  Dr.  Newman  informs  us  that  he  felt  for  him,  as 
early  as  1827-28,  enthusiastic  admiration.  He  adds, 
"  His  great  learning,  his  immense  diligence,  his 
scholar-like  miijd,  his  simple  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
religion  overcame  me."  Newman  speaks  of  him  fur- 
ther, of  the  date  of  1834,  as  having  a  vast  influence  in 
consequence,  in  part,  of  his  deep  religious  seriousness, 
and  the  munificence  of  his  charities. 

But    to  return   to  my  passing  sight   of   him.     He 
was  joined  as  he  crossed  what  is  known  as  the  "  Tom 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEDLE  20 1 

Quadrangle  "  —  so  called  because  of  the  great  bell, 
"  Tom  of  Oxford  "  that  sounds  over  it  from  its  cupola, 
—  by  a  youth  whom  I  noticed  in  the  cathedral,  who 
was  quite  lame ;  also  by  a  young  lady.  The  two  were, 
as  I  afterward  learned,  his  son  and  daughter.  His 
wife  had  died  ten  years  before.  I  stood  looking  after 
them  until  they  had  reached  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Quadrangle,  and  entered  their  own  apartments  —  that 
part  of  the  old  range  of  buildings  which  constituted 
Dr.  Pusey's  residence  as  Canon  of  Christ  Church. 

I  may  note  here  that  Dr.  Pusey's  weight  and  influ- 
ence in  Oxford  was  at  the  first  in  some  degree  due  to 
the  fact  of  his  holding  a  professorship,  and  also  to  his 
family  connections.  He  was  of  an  ancient  family;  his 
brother,  the  late  Philip  Pusey,  of  Pusey,  Member  of 
Parliament,  and  a  great  agriculturalist,  was  long  at  the 
head  of  it.  At  a  celebration  some  fifty  years  ago,  of 
the  thousandth  anniversary  of  the  birthday  of  Alfred, 
the  Pusey  horn  was  produced  —  a  precious  posses- 
sion, the  tradition  being  that  their  direct  ancestor,  then 
a  boy,  had  sounded  it  from  a  hill-top  to  give  notice  of 
a  Danish  invasion. 

Dr.  Pusey's  son,  whom  I  have  spoken  of  as  accom- 
panying him,  bore  the  name  of  Philip.  He  was  very 
lame,  in  fact  deformed.  It  is  probable  that  on  this 
account  he  did  not  take  Orders.  He  became,  how- 
ever, as  I  have  understood,  a  man  of  curious  learning 
and  especially  an  authority  in  regard  to  the  text  of 
the  New  Testament.  He  made  journeys  to  the  Le- 
vant and  elsewhere,  spite  of  his  infirmities,  in  search 


202  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

of  manuscripts.  A  visitor  at  Mt.  Athos  was  inquired 
of  by  the  monks,  some  years  after  one  of  young 
Pusey's  visits,  for  tidings  of  "  Philip  of  England." 

To  return  to  my  narrative.  Later  in  the  afternoon 
I  wandered  from  one  college  to  another,  entering  the 
Quadrangles,  and  studying  the  architecture,  and  look- 
ing at  the  old  statues  of  founders,  many  of  them 
crumbling  away  under  the  gnawing  tooth  of  Time. 
The  spire  of  St.  Mary's  I  stood  long  to  admire ;  it 
had  just  been  almost  completely  rebuilt  —  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  spires  in  England,  not  lofty,  but  of 
admirable  proportions.  The  High  Street,  the  noblest, 
perhaps,  in  Europe,  with  colleges  and  churches  on 
either  side,  was  the  one  along  which  I  was  walking. 
I  reached  Magdalen,  and  passing  through  the  Quad- 
rangle came  at  length  to  the  gardens,  and  the  famous 
water-walk  along  the  banks  of  the  Cherwell.  The 
noble  trees  formed  a  green  archway.  As  I  walked 
along  I  thought  of  the  many  to  whom  these  sweet 
shades  had  brought  peace,  and  with  it  elevation  of 
mind.  Addison's  name  is  perhaps  the  most  famous 
in  literature  of  the  students  of  Magdalen  {Maudlin, 
as  it  is  mostly  called).  Besides  this  water-walk  there 
is  a  park  connected  with  the  college  grounds.  There 
were  many  deer  under  the  noble  trees. 

I  met  by  chance  Mr.  Marriott  in  the  Chapel  of 
Merton,  with  some  friends  to  whom  he  was  showing 
the  beautiful  restorations  in  this  chapel.  He  had 
been  to  "  The  Mitre  "  he  said,  to  look  for  me.  '  He 
welcomed    me   cordially.      His    manners  were   grave 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  203 

and  quiet.  He  pointed  out  to  me  the  beauty  of  the 
chapel  we  were  in,  and  afterward  some  very  ancient 
parts  of  the  college  —  perhaps  the  most  ancient  archi- 
tecture in  Oxford.  We  went  into  the  library  where 
there  were  some  books  chained  to  their  shelves. 
Thence  we  walked  to  Christ  Church  meadows  and 
alone  the  banks  of  the  "  Silver  Isis."  A  boat-race 
was  going  on,  and  a  large  number  of  the  young 
Oxford  men  were  gathered,  representing,  doubtless, 
some  of  the  best  blood  of  England.  We  stood  to 
watch  the  gay  scene,  and  I  thought  of  Wordsworth's 
lines  referring  to  a  similar  scene  at  Cambridge 

"Who  .  .  . 
Could  have  beheld,  —  with  undelighted  heart, 
So  many  happy  youths,  so  wide  and  fair 
A  congregation  in  its  budding  time 
Of  health,  and  hope,  and  beauty,  all  at  once 
So  many  divers  samples  from  the  growth 
Of  hfe's  sweet  season  —  could  have  seen  unmoved 
That  miscellaneous  garland  of  wild  flowers 
Decking  the  matron  temples  of  a  place 
So  famous  through  the  world?" 

The  beautiful  tower  of  Magdalen  was  often  in  view 
as  we  followed  the  windings  of  the  water-walk ;  it 
seemed  almost  to  move  as  we  did,  and  ever  to  end 
the  prospect.  We  had  some  pleasant  talk.  One  sub- 
ject was  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  the  canvass  which  w^as 
then  going  on  at  the  University;  a  general  election 
was  at  hand.  The  Oxford  men  were  beginning  to 
be  restive  under  the  leaning  toward  liberal  opinions 
which  they  discovered  in  their  then  representative. 


204  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Mr.  Marriott  said  he  was  going  in  the  evening  to 
Dr.  Acland's  —  afterward  Sir  Henry  Acland  —  a  son 
of  Sir  Thomas  Acland,  and  that  he  would  be  glad  if 
I  would  accompany  him.  I  accordingly  joined  him 
at  his  rooms  at  a  little  after  eight.  His  study,  as  I 
have  said,  was  once  Mr.  Newman's:  here  the  Paro- 
chial Sermons  were  written,  those  remarkable  produc- 
tions which  to  so  many  persons  stood  for  years  in 
the  place  of  a  living  teacher.  Principal  Shairp,  who 
heard  these  sermons,  has  said  of  them:  — 

"  The  look  and  bearing  of  the  preacher  were  as  of  one  who 
dwelt  apart ;  who,  though  he  knew  his  age  well,  did  not  live 
in  it.  From  his  seclusion  of  study,  and  abstinence  and  prayer, 
from  habitual  dwelling  in  the  unseen,  he  seemed  to  come  forth 
that  one  day  of  the  week  to  speak  to  others  of  the  things  he 
had  seen  and  known.  To  call  these  sermons  eloquent  would 
not  be  the  word  for  them ;  high  poems  they  rather  were,  as 
of  an  inspired  singer,  or  the  outpourings  of  a  prophet,  rapt, 
yet  self-possessed.  And  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  they  were 
spoken,  once  you  grew  accustomed  to  it,  sounded  like  a  fine 
strain  of  unearthly  music.  After  hearing  these  sermons  you 
might  come  away  still  not  believing  the  tenets  of  the  High 
Church  system ;  but  you  would  be  harder  than  most  men  if 
you  did  not  feel  more  than  ever  ashamed  of  coarseness,  self- 
ishness, worldliness,  if  you  did  not  feel  the  things  of  faith 
brought  close  to  the  soul." 

I  had  never  myself  the  happiness  to  hear  Mr.  New- 
man, but  the  associations  of  the  room  in  which  I 
found  myself  were  of  strange  interest.  Books  were 
everywhere  in  the  apartment,  so  that  there  was,  indeed, 
but  little  space  left  for  the  piano  and  table  which  were 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHJV  KEBLE  205 

in  the  middle  of  the  room.     Music  appeared  to  be  the 
one  recreation  of  Mr.  Marriott's  studious  soHtude. 

We  set  off  soon  on  our  walk.  The  spire  of  St. 
Mary's  we  looked  at  long  as  we  drew  near  to  it  in  the 
evening  light ;  the  reflected  glow  of  the  western  sky 
was  upon  it,  tinting  it  with  pale  gold.  It  was  in  this 
church  that  Mr.  Newman's  sermons  were  preached. 
At  Dr.  Acland's  I  met  agreeable,  cultivated  people. 
The  Rev.  Sir  George  Prevost  I  had  much  talk 
with.  I  enjoyed  the  quiet  evening  extremely ;  it  was 
yet  another  glimpse  to  me  of  the  best  household  life 
of  England  —  an  experience  of  the  sort  from  which 
an  American  traveller  may  gain  a  true  knowledge  of 
"  Our  Old  Home." 

I  breakfasted  the  next  morning  with  Mr.  Marriott 
to  meet  Sir  Georore  Prevost  and  a  few  others,  one  of 
them  the  Rev.  Charles  Page  Eden,  editor  of  the  new 
edition  of  Jeremy  Taylor.  I  had  wondered,  when  Mr. 
Marriott  had  asked  me,  the  evening  before,  how  he 
could  entertain  us  in  his  room  in  which  books  had  so 
much  the  upper  hand ;  but,  behold !  his  large  library 
table  had  been  cleared  of  its  usual  occupants,  and  a 
cloth  was  spread,  and  there  was  promise  of  .a  sub- 
stantial meal. 

Mr.  Marriott  made  the  coffee  and  the  tea,  for  there 
was  fire  on  the  hearth.  His  "grace"  was  ''Benedictus 
benedicat','  a  form  of  words  which  has  been  in  use  at 
Oriel  since  the  Middle  Ages.  There  was  animated 
talk,  chiefly  upon  Church  matters,  though  many  ques- 
tions were  asked  me  about  America.    Mr.  Eden  I  was 


206  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

glad  to  meet;  he  had  just  completed  a  stupendous  work, 
—  verifying  every  quotation  made  by  Jeremy  Taylor, 
giving  the  reference  at  the  foot  of  each  page  —  a  task 
requiring  almost  the  learning  of  Jeremy  himself. 

Sir  George  Prevost  in  parting  asked  me  to  visit 
him  in  Gloucestershire,  and  offered  to  introduce  me 
to  his  brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Isaac  Williams,  author 
of  "  The  Cathedral "  and  other  poems,  and  one  of  the 
leadins:  Oxford  Tract  writers  —  a  man  for  whom  I 
had  hio-h  admiration.  This  visit  I  was  unable  to 
accomplish,  nor  did  I  ever  see  afterward  Sir  George 
Prevost.  He  w^as  a  baronet  as  well  as  a  clergyman,  and 
had  always  much  weight  and  influence  in  the  English 
Church.     He  was  very  simple  and  gentle  in  manner. 

When  our  pleasant  breakfast  party  was  over  I 
walked  for  a  while  in  the  beautiful  gardens  of  New 
College.  Never  was  there  richer  green  than  that  of 
the  turf  on  which  the  shadows  of  these  colleges,  and 
their  walls  and  towers,  now  and  again  fall,  and  never 
fuller,  richer,  more  abundant  foliage. 

I  returned  to  Oriel  to  take  my  leave  of  Mr.  Mar- 
riott. He  inquired  very  kindly  as  to  my  further 
journeying  in  England,  and  offered  me  introductions, 
among  them  one  to  Mr.  Keble.  I  gladly  accepted 
this,  and  he  then  wished  me  God-speed  and  I  w^ent 
my  way.  I  must  note  that  he  died  some  years  after- 
ward, and  what  was  printed  in  regard  to  him  at  the 
time  showed  that  his  life  had  been  saintly  in  its  zeal 
and  devotion.  He  impressed  me  as  a  man  of  great 
singleness  of  mind,  of  high  and  unworldly  aims. 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  207 

My  thoughts  had  been,  naturally,  much  of  Mr. 
Newman  while  I  was  in  the  room  which  spoke  so 
continually  of  his  presence.  But  indeed  the  whole 
air  of  Oriel  College  seemed  to  tell  of  him.  In  the 
very  year  of  my  visit  he  uttered  this  half-wistful  recol- 
lection of  it,  speaking  with  something  of  the  narrow- 
ness which  had  come  to  him  with  his  new  faith. 

"  In  the  heart  of  Oxford  there  is  a  small  plot  of  ground, 
hemmed  in  by  public  thoroughfares,  which  has  been  the  pos- 
session and  the  home  of  one  Society  for  above  five  hundred 
years.  In  the  old  time  of  Boniface  the  Eighth  and  John  the 
Twenty-second,  in  the  age  of  Scotus  and  Occam  and  Dante, 
before  Wickhf  or  Huss  had  kindled  those  miserable  fires 
which  were  to  be  the  ruin  of  souls  innumerable  down  to  this 
day,  an  unfortunate  King  of  England,  Edward  the  Second, 
flying  from  the  field  of  Bannockburn,  is  said  to  have  made  a 
vow  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  to  found  a  religious  house  in  her 
honour  if  he  got  back  in  safety.  Prompted  and  aided  by  his 
almoner,  he  decided  on  placing  this  house  in  the  City  of 
Alfred ;  and  the  Image  of  Our  Lady  which  is  opposite  its 
entrance,  is  the  token  of  the  vow  and  its  fulfilment  to  this 
day.  King  and  almoner  have  long  been  in  the  dust,  and 
strangers  have  entered  into  their  inheritance,  and  their  creed 
has  been  forgotten,  and  their  holy  rites  disowned ;  but  day 
by  day  a  memento  is  still  made  in  the  Holy  Sacrifice  by  at 
least  one  Catholic  priest,  once  a  member  of  that  College,  for 
the  souls  of  those  Catholic  benefactors  who  fed  him  there  for 
so  many  years." 

Against  this  passage,  with  its  strangely  unchari- 
table words,  I  place  one  other  showing  Newman's 
deep  love  for  Oxford  as  a  whole,  and  what  a  wrench 
it  must  have  been  to  his  spirit  to  leave  it. 


208  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

"There  are  those  [he  says]  who,  having  felt  the  influ- 
ence of  this  ancient  school  and  being  smit  with  its  splendour 
and  its  sweetness,  ask  wistfully  if  never  again  it  is  to  be  Catho- 
lic, or  whether  at  least  some  footing  for  Catholicity  may  not 
be  found  there.  All  honour  and  merit  to  the  charitable  and 
zealous  hearts  who  so  enquire  !  Nor  can  we  dare  to  tell  what, 
in  time  to  come,  may  be  the  inscrutable  purposes  of  that  Grace 
which  is  ever  more  comprehensive  than  human  hope  and  as- 
piration. But  for  me,  from  the  day  I  left  its  walls,  I  never, 
for  good  or  bad,  have  had  anticipation  of  its  future;  and 
never  for  a  moment  have  I  had  a  wish  to  see  again  a  place 
which  I  have  never  ceased  to  love,  and  where  I  lived  for 
nearly  thirty  years." 

It  was  with  the  sweet  influence  of  Oxford  still  upon 
me  that  I  arrived  at  Winchester  on  a  Saturday  after- 
noon, intending  the  next  day  to  present  myself  at 
Hursley,  the  home  of  Mr.  Keble.  But  Winchester 
had  its  own  attractions,  chiefest  of  all  the  cathedral. 
I  found  the  same  open  space  of  greensward  about  it, 
which  adds  so  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  English 
cathedrals  as  compared  with  those  of  the  Continent. 
I  entered  by  the  west  door,  and  was  delighted  and 
astonished  at  the  grandeur  of  the  nave.  It  is  as  long 
as  that  of  York,  250  feet;  the  extreme  length  of  the 
cathedral  is  560  feet.  The  noble  pillars,  white  and 
fair  as  if  the  work  of  yesterday,  and  the  view  of  them 
from  the  west  door  with  the  vista  of  the  distant  choir 
opening  beyond,  and  the  aisles  in  like  manner,  with 
their  springing  arches  in  long  perspective,  afford  a 
whole  which  it  is  a  deep  delight  to  look  upon.  Haw- 
thorne says  of  York  that  it  is  the  most  "wonderful 
work  that  ever  came  from  the  hands  of  man,  seeming 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  209 

indeed  like  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  but  to  have 
come  down  from  above,  bringing  an  awful  majesty 
and  sweetness  with  it."  He  adds,  "  I  thank  God  that 
I  saw  this  cathedral  again,  and  I  thank  Him  that  He 
inspired  the  builders  to  build  it,  and  that  mankind 
has  so  long  enjoyed  it,  and  will  continue  to  enjoy  it." 
One  may  not  go  beyond  such  glowing  words  as  these, 
and  yet  the  interior  of  Winchester  surpasses  in  some 
respects  that  of  York. 

I  was  taking  my  full  of  pleasure  as  I  walked  slowly 
up  the  nave,  and  I  had  paused  opposite  the  chantry 
and  tomb  of  William  of  Wykeham,  when  the  verger 
approached  and  asked  me  to  join  the  party  to  whom 
he  was  then  showing  the  cathedral.  We  went  into 
the  choir,  and  there  the  first  object  that  struck  me 
was  the  tomb  of  William  Rufus.  I  was  rather  fresh 
at  the  time  from  Lingard,  and  so  I  looked  with  pecul- 
iar interest  on  the  very  spot  where  the  hasty  burial 
took  place,  in  the  year  1 100,  of  the  second  of  the  Nor- 
man kings.  His  life,  Lingard  says,  had  been  base  and 
impious,  and  so  there  were  no  religious  rites. 

"...  they  laid  him  in  the  Cathedral  Church 
Because  he  had  been  a  King. 

"  But  never  a  heart  at  his  death  was  sore 
And  never  an  eye  was  dim  ; 
The  Church  bells  toll  for  rich  and  poor, 
But  they  never  toU'd  for  him." 

And  here  is  this  further  record  of  him  from  Neale's 
version  of  the  old  chronicler's  story :  — 


210  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

"  There  was  never  a  night  but  he  lay  down 
A  worse  man  than  he  rose  ; 
And  never  a  morning  but  up  he  sprung 
Worse  than  at  evening's  close." 

Another  interesting  historical  association  of  Win- 
chester Cathedral  is  the  fact  that  there,  at  the  high 
altar,  the  marriage  of  Philip  and  Mary  was  solemnized. 
In  the  south  transept  under  a  plain  slab  in  the  pave- 
ment lies  Izaak  Walton,  and  not  far  off  is  a  monu- 
ment to  Jane  Austen.  Such  are  the  contrasts  of  an 
English  cathedral  —  the  associations  utterly  separated 
as  to  time  and  strangely  various  in  character. 

After  my  dinner  at  "  The  George,"  I  walked  in  the 
sweet  summer  evening  to  the  hospital  of  St.  Cross, 
about  a  mile  distant.  This  is  one  of  the  quaint  relics 
of  the  Middle  Ages  which  happily  are  still  preserved 
in  England :  originally  called  "  The  Almshouse  of 
Noble  Poverty,"  it  is  a  house  for  a  certain  number  of 
poor  men.  The  buildings  are  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury and  are  of  curious  interest.  At  the  porter's  gate 
a  dole  of  bread  and  beer  is  given  to  all  who  apply  for 
it  —  until  the  supply  for  the  day  is  exhausted.  Some 
years  after  the  date  of  my  visit,  an  immense  stir  was 
made  about  this  endowment,  and  its  perversion  from 
its  true  use,  by  the  then  Earl  of  Guilford.  Mr.  Trol- 
lope's  novel,  "  The  Warden,"  is  based  upon  the  story 
of  this  old  foundation,  and  the  abuses  of  long  years 
which  were  brouo^ht  to  lio^ht  at  the  time  of  which  I 
speak.  As  I  saw  the  hospital  of  St.  Cross  it  was 
wonderfully  picturesque,  and  nothing  indicated  to  me 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  211 

the  sham  and  hypocrisy  that  I  suppose  it  really  was. 
The  beer  did  appear  to  me  of  the  smallest  as  I  tasted 
my  pilgrim's  share  of  it. 

I  was  up  betimes  the  next  morning,  Sunday,  that  I 
might  attend  morning  prayers  at  the  cathedral  at  half 
past  seven.  I  was  shown  to  one  of  the  high  stalls  in 
the  choir.  Someliow  in  the  freshness  of  the  early 
morning  there  seemed  a  sublimer  beauty  in  pillar  and 
lofty  arch.  The  service  was  short,  —  morning  prayer 
only,  as  far  as  the  litany,  —  but  it  seemed  to  give  a 
glory  to  the  day. 

Two  hours  later  I  started  for  Hursley,  five  miles 
distant  —  the  parish  of  w^hich  Mr.  Keble  was  vicar. 
I  had  a  delightful  walk  over  the  Hampshire  hills. 
Now  and  again  I  came  upon  a  flock  of  sheep  with  a 
shepherd  and  his  dog  attending  them  —  quiet  pas- 
toral scenes.  From  the  first  ridge  or  eminence  after 
leaving  Winchester  I  had  a  fine  view  of  the  town 
with  the  cathedral  in  its  majesty  rising  far  above  all 
the  other  buildings,  seeming  to  gather  them  under  its 
sheltering  arms.  It  was  interesting  to  think  of  the 
importance  of  the  city  in  the  old  days  and  of  the 
great  things  which  had  come  to  pass  there.  It  was 
a  most  important  post  or  encampment  of  the  Romans, 
and  when  their  power  passed  away  it  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Saxons  and  became  the  capitol  of  Wes- 
sex.  Alfred  held  his  witan  there;  and  there  in  1522 
the  great  Emperor  Charles  V.  was  entertained  by 
Henry  VIII. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when   I   reached   the  village 


212  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

church  at  Hursley  —  a  new  and  beautiful  church, 
built  in  the  main,  as  I  afterward  learnt,  out  of  the 
profits  of  "  The  Christian  Year."  I  could  give  no 
study  to  the  exterior,  for  service  had  begun.  The 
church  was  well  filled  ;  the  men  and  women  sat  on 
different  sides.  The  men  were  for  the  most  part  the 
peasantry  of  the  neighbourhood,  wearing  the  white 
smock-frock  peculiar  to  this  part  of  England.  There 
were  no  pews,  so  that  rich  and  poor  were  in  a  true 
sense  met  together.  The  psalms  for  the  day  were 
chanted,  and  I  noticed  that  the  entire  congregation 
seemed  to  take  part  in  the  singing.  There  were  three 
clergymen  in  the  chancel,  and  one  of  them  I  saw  at 
once  was  Mr.  Keble.  A  print  of  him  which  I  had 
long  possessed,  from  a  portrait  by  Richmond,  guided 
me,  though  the  picture  was  of  twenty  years  earlier 
date  —  the  period  indeed  of  his  prime.  Now  his  hair 
was  grey,  and  the  spectacles  he  wore  gave  a  further 
look  of  age.  The  choristers  had  their  seats  in  the 
chancel  — •  boys  in  white  surplices.  I  mention  this 
fact  because  of  a  little  incident  of  a  later  period  of  my 
narrative.  Mr.  Keble  read  the  litany  and  a  part  of 
the  ante-communion  service,  but  he  did  not  preach. 
To  my  disappointment,  one  of  the  other  clergymen, 
also  grey-haired,  went  into  the  pulpit.  But  the  ser- 
mon was  excellent,  plain,  and  earnest,  and  qui'te  of  the 
character  of  those  of  Mr.  Keble's  I  had  read. 

I  linsfered  for  a  while  in  the  church  and  church- 
yard  when  the  service  was  over,  and  then  entered 
the  garden  or  grounds  of   the  vicarage.     Mr.   Keble 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  2 1 3 

at  the  moment  appeared  at  the  hall  door,  and  I 
delivered  in  person  my  line  of  introduction  from 
Mr.  Marriott.  "  What  a  pleasing  countenance !  "  I 
said  to  myself,  as  I  thus  saw  him.  "  What  a  look 
of  gentleness  and  benignity !  "  He  led  me  to  the 
drawing-room,  and  then  asked  me  about  my  travels. 
There  was  a  certain  shyness  or  half  timidity  of  man- 
ner at  the  first,  but  this  soon  passed  off.  I  was 
struck  with  the  brightness  of  his  eye,  and  at  the 
same  time  with  his  look  of  purity  and  guilelessness. 
The  print,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  gives  with  re- 
markable fidelity  the  sweet  smile  and  the  lustre  of 
the  eye,  which,  as  it  were,  constituted  the  charm  of 
his  countenance.  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a 
more  winnino^  look  in  one  on  whom  asre  had  besfun 
to  tell.  The  room  was  pretty  and  bright,  looking 
out  on  the  garden,  which  was  gay  with  its  summer 
bloom,  and  across  to  the  church  and  churchyard. 
On  the  walls  were  some  fine  prints,  among  them 
the  Dresden  Madonna  engraved  by  Miiller.  Books 
were  there  in  abundance,  showing  that  the  library 
had  overflowed  into  the  drawingf-room. 

I  had  no  thought  of  making  my  visit  other  than 
a  call,  but,  when  I  rose  to  go,  Mr.  Keble  rose  at  the 
same  moment,  and,  taking  my  hat  from  me,  said, 
"  You  will  stay  and  take  luncheon  with  us,  and  din- 
ner afterward  at  six,  after  Evening  Service."  The 
invitation  was  in  the  light  of  a  command,  and  I  was 
only  too  happy  to  obey.  Soon  afterward  luncheon 
was  announced.     Mr.  Keble  said :    "  Let  me  explain 


214  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

to  you  whom  you  will  see.  My  wife  will  be  at  the 
head  of  the  table ;  the  gentleman  is  my  brother,  the 
elderly  lady  is  my  sister,  two  of  the  young  ladies  are 
my  brother's  daughters,  the  other  is  Miss  Richards. 
Except  the  last,  the  names  are  all  Keble."  So  we 
went  to  the  dining  room,  and  I  was  duly  presented. 
I  was  struck  with  Mrs.  Keble's  sweet  expression  of 
countenance.  Mr.  Keble's  brother  proved  to  be 
the  preacher  to  whom  I  had  just  listened,  —  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Keble,  vicar  of  Bisley.  Somehow  I 
felt  draw^n  to  him  at  once.  I  knew  of  him  as  hav- 
ing been  one  of  the  Oxford  Tract  writers.  The 
meal  was  informal,  and  I  think  no  servant  was 
present.  Mr.  Keble  himself  went  round  the  table 
offering  wine  to  his  guests.  There  seemed  some- 
thing characteristic  in  this  simple  act. 

When  we  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  Mr. 
Keble  soon  said  that  he  had  his  school  to  look 
after,  but  that  his  brother  would  remain  with  me. 
So  for  an  hour  or  two  I  talked  with  the  good  vicar 
of  Bisley,  and  was  charmed  with  his  quiet  humour, 
and  the  quick  intelligence  which  was  manifest  under 
the  quaint  simplicity  of  his  manner.  He  asked  me 
many  questions  about  my  country,  but  our  talk  was 
chiefly  about  Church  matters.  I  felt  at  the  time 
lively  interest  in  the  Oxford  Movement,  and  was 
especially  curious  to  know  about  Hurrell  Froude, 
who  was  the  bosom  friend  of  Keble  and  of  Newman, 
and  who  was  as  much  answerable  as  any  man  for  the 
great  awakening,  so  to  speak,  of  1834.     "A  man  of 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  21 5 

the  highest  gifts,"  Newman  testifies ;  "  so  truly  many- 
sided,"  he  says,  "  that  it  would  be  presumptuous  in 
me  to  attempt  to  describe  him."  "  Would  he  have 
been  likely,"  I  asked,  "  if  he  had  lived,  to  follow 
Newman  in  his  great  change  ?  "  "A  question  diffi- 
cult to  answer,"  said  the  good  vicar  of  Bisley,  with 
a  smile.  "  Newman  thinks  he  would  certainly  have 
gone  with  him,  but  I  believe  myself  that  he  would 
have  remained  with  my  brother  and  Dr.  Pusey." 
He  added  that  Froude  had  never  been  betrayed 
into  sharp  denunciation  of  Rome,  as  Newman  had, 
so  there  was  no  rebound  of  feeling.  Mr.  Keble  said 
further  that  there  was  something  of  strangeness  in 
Froude,  and  that  people  did  not  at  first  understand 
him ;  he  had  been  himself  a  little  afraid  of  him,  be- 
cause of  his  abrupt  way  of  speaking,  but,  as  he  came 
to  know  him  better,  he  saw  the  essential  nobleness 
and  beauty  of  his  character. 

The  afternoon  service  was  at  three  o'clock,  and 
was  well  attended,  and  this  time  the  sermon  was  by 
the  author  of  "  The  Christian  Year."  It  was  very 
simple ;  the  text  was,  "  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away,  but  my  word  shall  not  pass  away."  There 
was  no  gesture,  nor  were  there  any  high-wrought 
expressions ;  the  tones  of  the  preacher  s  voice  were 
touching  in  their  earnestness,  but  the  matter  of  the 
discourse  was  level  to  the  understanding  of  the  most 
unlearned  of  his  hearers.  He  held  his  manuscript 
in  his  hand  as  he  read,  but  his  manner  now  and 
then  had  a  sort  of   plaintive  tenderness  which  com- 


2i6  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

pelled  attention.  It  was  impossible  not  to  feel  that 
he  was  speaking  to  those  whose  inmost  souls  lay 
open  to  him.  The  people  of  the  scattered  hamlets 
which  formed  the  village  of  Hursley  were  almost  as 
his  own  household.  I  had  been  told  I  should  find 
him  a  pattern  vicar,  and  that  Sir  William  Heath- 
cote,  his  lifelong  friend  and  the  lord  of  the  manor, 
might  well  be  considered  a  pattern  squire.  Cer- 
tainly everything  in  the  church  and  out  of  it  seemed 
to  speak  of  watchful  care  and  guidance. 

Service  being  over,  I    remained  in  the  church  to 
study  the  windows,  which  are  beautiful ;  the  designs 
for  them  were  contributed  by  various  artists,  Copley 
Fielding,  Mr.  Dyce,  and  others.     The  church    itself 
was  paid  for,  as  I  have  said,  almost  wholly  out  of  the 
profits  of  "  The  Christian  Year,"  and  the  cost  of  the 
windows   was    in    part    defrayed   from    receipts   from 
the  same  source.     Mr.  Keble  had  told  me  there  would 
be  a  funeral  shortly,  and  in  a  few  minutes   I  saw  him 
standing  at  the  lich-gate  to  meet  the  mourners.     From 
a  distance   I  looked  on.     The  procession  came  very 
slowly  up  the  avenue  of  old  trees,  the  vicar  repeating 
at  intervals  the  solemn  sentences  with  which  the  burial 
service  begins.    It  was  the  funeral  of  a  child ;  they  were 
poor  people  who  followed,  women  chiefly,  with  black 
dresses,  but  wearing  white  veils  or  hoods,  and  the  cofhn 
was  covered  with  a  fair  linen  cloth.     Mr.  Keble  looked 
upward  to  the  clear  heavens,  and  seemed  as  if  awed 
by  the  solemnity  of  the  duty  he  had  to  perform ;  cer- 
tainly if  it  had  been  a  child  of  the  noblest  of  the  land 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  217 

he  could  not,  with  more  touching  earnestness,  have 
uttered  the  consoHng  words  of  the  service.  The  sweet 
summer  afternoon,  and  the  beautiful  church,  and  the 
quiet  country  around  made  the  scene  memorable  to  me. 

I  returned  to  the  vicarage,  where  I  had  some  further 
talk  with  Mr.  Thomas  Keble.  I  may  note  that  I 
afterward  learned  in  regard  to  this  good  man  that  he 
exercised  much  influence  on  those  associated  with 
him,  though  modest  and  retiring  to  an  extreme  de- 
gree. He  was  but  two  years  younger  than  his 
brother.  Dr.  Pusey  said  of  him  that,  though  known 
to  the  world  only  as  a  simple  parish  priest,  he  exer- 
cised a  silent  and  unconscious  influence  on  such  a 
mind  as  Newman's.  "  It  used  to  be  noted  at  an  early 
period,"  Dr.  Pusey  says,  "  that  a  visit  to  the  vicar  of 
Bisley  was  attended  by  the  unconscious  reappearance 
of  some  of  his  thoughts  in  the  pulpit  of  St.  INIary's." 

At  six  o'clock  the  same  company  that  I  had  met  at 
luncheon  assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  and  dinner 
was  announced.  Mr.  Keble  had  been  occupied  with 
the  duties  of  the  day  up  to  this  time,  but  now  his 
work  was  over  and  he  seemed  happy  to  be  again  with 
his  family  and  friends.  His  poet  s  eye  was  bright  and 
his  countenance  gay  and  smiling.  Mrs.  Keble  seemed 
to  me  a  charming  person,  sympathizing  with  her 
husband,  I  could  readily  see,  in  all  his  thoughts  and 
feelings.  She  was  some  fifteen  years  younger  than  he. 
She  seemed  frail  in  health.  When  the  ladies  left  us, 
Mr.  Keble  took  his  wife's  place  at  the  table,  and  thus 
I  was  close  to  him.     The  talk  which  went  on  was  free 


21 8  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

and  flowing.  I  mentioned  my  having  lately  seen  Dr. 
Pusey,  and  that  I  thought  his  appearance  was  that  of 
vigorous  health.  Mr.  Keble  said  he  was  stronger 
than  he  had  been  for  a  year  or  two  previous.  He  had 
felt  deeply  "  the  cruel  attacks "  upon  him  of  Mr. 
Dodsworth  and  others  —  men  who  had  gone  over 
to  Rome,  and  had  alleged  Dr.  Pusey's  influence  as  a 
cause,  and  had  upbraided  him  for  not  accompanying 
them.  One  of  these  men,  Mr.  Keble  said,  had  been 
greatly  beholden  to  Dr.  Pusey,  —  and  then  came  the 
half  involuntary  ejaculation,  "  Nasty  conceited  prig ! " 
Mr.  Keble  turned  to  me,  after  he  said  this,  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  as  if  apologizing  for  his  vehemence. 
The  two  brothers  talked  further  of  certain  persons 
who,  while  they  had  not  gone  over  to  Rome,  were  very 
harsh  in  their  judgment  of  matters  in  England,  speak- 
ing, Mr.  Keble  said,  in  a  "  miserably  undutiful  way  of 
the  English  Church."  Manning's  going  over  had 
taken  place  a  year  or  two  before;  I  had  alluded  to 
this  and  to  the  pain  it  had  caused  in  America.  Mr. 
Keble  said  there  had,  of  course,  been  great  feeling  in 
England.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  the  strength  of  the 
Church  of  England  is  not  with  her  leading  men; 
there  are  old  women  in  my  parish,  please  God,  with 
whom  I  should  far  rather  say  is  found  the  true  life  of 
the  Church  ;  such  as  they  are  our  true  witnesses,  — 
the  simple-hearted  poor." 

I  have  mentioned  in  speaking  of  the  morning  ser- 
vice at  the  church  that  the  boy  choristers  had  their 
seats  in  the  chancel.     While  I  was  sitting  with  the 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHN  KEBLE  219 

two  brothers  in  this  after-dinner  talk,  Mr.  Keble  in 
drawing  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  found  a 
knot  in  it.  He  seemed  to  puzzle  over  this  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said,  "Oh,  I  remember.  One  of 
the  boys  of  the  choir  was  eating  an  apple  while  the 
service  was  going  on,  fancying  that  nobody  could  see 
him.  I  put  a  knot  in  my  handkerchief  that  I  might 
remember  to  tell  his  mother  to  give  him  no  more 
apples  for  a  while."  I  felt  a  certain  pity  for  the  small 
offender,  and  I  thought  the  incident  showed,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  sharp  remark  before  quoted,  something 
of  the  severity  which  Mr.  Keble  was  no  doubt  equal 
to  on  occasion.  But  I  fancied  he  was  half  amused, 
all  the  same,  at  the  young  rogue's  delinquency. 

In  Mr.  Thomas  Keble  there  was  a  rich  overflow 
of  this  kindly  humour  which  went  far,  no  doubt,  to 
make  him  dear  to  his  friends.  But  in  England  a 
quick  sense  of  humour  is  very  often  to  be  found  in 
highly  educated  men.  As  I  sat  by  the  two  brothers, 
I  felt  strongly  that  matters  of  the  deepest  and  gravest 
thought  were  unceasingly  present  to  them,  and  yet 
with  them  both  there  was  a  sort  of  sunny  radiance 
that  gave  a  peculiar  charm  to  their  conversation.  In 
looking  as  I  have  done  since  I  began  to  copy  out 
these  notes,  at  that  delightful  book,  Sir  John  Cole- 
ridge's "  Life  of  Keble,"  I  find  a  passage  in  a  letter 
of  Mr.  Keble's  of'  a  date  some  years  later  than  that 
of  my  visit;  he  is  speaking  of  a  visit  he  had  paid 
his  brother  at  Bisley,  and  of  their  going  together  to 
the  Musical  Festival  at  Gloucester  Cathedral,  where 


220  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

"The  Elijah"  was  given,  and  "where,"  to  quote  his 
own  words,  "  the  two  old  codger  Kebles  were  seen 
sitting  side  by  side." 

I  may  note  that  the  more  than  brotherhood  of 
these  two  extended  over  a  period  of  seventy  years 
and  upward.  Thomas  Keble  survived  the  poet  five 
or  six  years.  Each  was  the  main  help  and  stay  of 
the  other.  They  were  the  children  of  a  clergyman 
whose  living  was  of  small  value,  but  who,  educating 
them  himself,  as  far  as  preparation  for  college  went, 
so  fitted  them  that  each  won  scholarships.  More- 
over, John  Keble,  when  scarcely  eighteen,  obtained  a 
double  First  Class,  a  distinction  which  up  to  that  time 
no  one  had  earned  but  Sir  Robert  Peel,  with  whose 
examination  the  Universit}^  was  ringing.  Sir  John  Cole- 
ridge says,  when  Keble  began  his  Oxford  residence. 
Keble's  success  was  the  more  remarkable  because  of 
his  youth,  and  of  what  might  well  have  seemed  his 
imperfect  preparation  for  college.  It  was  understood 
that  his  father  had  never  compelled  him  to  study,  and 
that  he  was  taught  only  when  he  liked  to  learn. 

As  I  draw  to  an  end  with  my  own  very  slight 
narrative,  I  recall  a  remarkable  incident  which  is  told 
by  Sir  John  Coleridge,  —  the  visit  of  Dr.  Newman  to 
Hursley  in  the  last  year  of  Keble's  life.  The  account 
is  mainly  given  in  a  letter  of  Newman's  to  Sir  John. 
He  came  without  being  expected.  Mr.  Keble  was  at 
his  door  speaking  to  a  friend.  He  did  not  know 
Newman,  and  asked  him  his  name.  What  was  more 
wonderful,  Newman  did    not   know  him,  though    he 


OXFORD,  AND  JOHM  KEBLE  221 

had  come  purposely  to  see  him.  He  gave  him  his 
card  without  speaking.  Then  they  found  each  other 
out,  and  Keble  with  that  "  tender  flurry  of  manner  " 
which  Newman  says  "  he  recollected  so  well,"  told 
him  Pusey  was  there.  Then  came  the  meeting  of 
the  three.  They  had  not  seen  each  other  for  twenty 
years  —  they  who  had  been  so  closely  united  for  so 
many  years.  Four  or  five  hours  passed  in  this  re- 
newed intercourse.  Newman  tells  very  little  of  their 
talk.  Dr.  Pusey,  he  says,  was  full  of  the  question  of 
the  inspiration  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  Keble  ex- 
pressed his  joy  that  it  was  a  common  cause  on  which 
there  could  be  substantial  agreement.  Pusey  left 
them,  and  Keble  and  Newman  walked  a  little  way, 
and  "  stood  looking,"  the  latter  says,  "  at  the  church 
and  churchyard  so  beautiful  and  calm."  Newman 
adds  that  Keble  began  then  to  converse  with  him 
with  more  than  his  old  intimacy,  as  if  they  had  never 
been  parted.  Newman  went  away  to  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  intending  to  repeat  his  visit,  but  Mrs.  Keble's 
illness  prevented.  Many  notes,  he  says,  passed  be- 
tween him  and  Keble  about  this  time ;  in  one  of 
them  the  latter  made  a  reference  to  the  lines  in 
"  Macbeth  " :  — 

"When  shall  we  three  meet  again? 
When  the  hurly-burly's  done, 
When  the  battle's  lost  and  won." 

The  date  of  this  remarkable  and  last  meeting  of  the 
three  was  September,  1865  ;  the  following  April  Keble 
was  gathered  to  his  rest. 


222  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

I  have  little  more  to  tell  of  my  own  day  at  Hursley. 
Mr.  Keble  asked  me  to  visit  them  again  on  my  re- 
turn from  the  Continent.  Mrs.  Keble,  too,  said  some 
kind  words  to  me,  and  then  the  two  brothers  walked 
with  me  to  the  wicket-gate,  and,  with  the  blessing  of 
the  elder,  I  went  my  way. 


THE  OXFORD   COMMEMORATION, 

i860 


THE    OXFORD   COMMEMORATION, 

i860 

During  a  visit  to  Oxford  in  June  of  i860,  I  wit- 
nessed a  "  Commemoration."  I  was  a  guest  of  one  of 
the  Fellows  of  St.  John's  College,  Mr.  William  West 
Jones  —  a  Fellow,  as  I  have  said,  though  still  an  under- 
graduate. He  looked  to  taking  orders,  and  certainly 
there  was  everything  in  his  personal  bearing  to  make 
this  seem  natural.  May  I  say  it,  his  sweet  cheerful- 
ness of  spirit  betokened  a  purity  of  heart  and  mind 
which  was  of  rich  promise  for  his  future  life.  The 
years  have  brought  their  fulfilment,  for  my  kind  host 
of  those  days  became  afterward  bishop  of  Cape  Town 
and  Metropolitan  of  South  Africa. 

On  the  Sunday  morning  of  that  Oxford  visit  we 
went  to  St.  Mary's  to  hear  the  sermon  to  be  preached 
before  the  University  —  the  last  of  the  Bampton 
Lectures  of  that  year.  Many  of  the  Dons  were  there ; 
the  Vice-Chancellor  in  a  pew  raised  above  the  others 
and  sitting  alone ;  the  proctors  and  heads  of  houses 
around  him.  A  large  congregation  was  present.  It 
was  eleven  o'clock ;  there  was  no  service  because  in 
all  the  colleges  there  had  been  morning  service  at 
eight.     A  metrical  psalm  was  exquisitely  sung  by  the 

Q  225 


226  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

choristers  present,  and  then  the  preacher  read  that 
admirable  collocation  of  words  —  the  "  bidding  prayer." 
It  is  a  calling  upon  men  to  pray  for  the  sovereign,  for 
the  nobility,  for  the  magistrates,  for  the  institutions 
of  learning,  for  all,  in  short,  who  are  in  any  way  in 
authority,  and  for  every  earthly  means  through  which 
blessings  can  come;  and  then  there  is  a  giving  of 
thanks  for  all  the  good  which  has  flowed  to  men  in 
times  past  —  for  the  great  departed  whose  labours 
have  blessed  the  world  —  "  and  herein  I  am  especially 
bound  to  name  the  founder  of  the  college  of  St.  John, 
and  Dr.  William  Laud  and  Dr.  William  Juxon,  suc- 
cessively heads  of  that  college,  and  Archbishops  of 
Canterbury."  These  last  are  some  of  the  words  I 
recall  of  this  impressive  prayer.  The  preacher  was  of 
course  a  member  of  St.  John's  College. 

On  the  Monday  there  was  a  visit  to  the  Bodleian, 
where  wonderful  manuscripts  were  shown  us,  and 
where  various  portraits  by  Holbein  looked  down  upon 
us  from  the  walls.  I  lunched  with  my  kind  host  at 
St.  John's  on  that  Monday  with  a  small  party;  we 
had  some  of  the  old  college  plate  —  huge  tankards  of 
silver,  and  wine-coolers ;  and  the  cheer  was  bountiful 
as  well  as  scholastic.  I  should  mention  that  our 
host,  while  he  entertained  us  with  university  gossip, 
was  briskly  compounding  the  love  cup.  It  proved 
a  delicious  beverage,  and  it  contained  the  borage, 
which  is,  I  believe,  indispensable  to  give  mystic  sig- 
nificance to  the  draught.  The  tankard  used  for  it 
was   especially  antique    in   form,   and    so   heavy  that 


THE   OXFORD    COMMEMORATION'  22/ 

the  two  handles  had  to  be  grasped  to  raise  it  to  the 
Hps. 

Of  the  procession  of  boats  on  that  sweet  summer 
evening  —  one  of  the  spectacles  of  Commemoration 
week  —  and  of  the  flower-show  the  next  day  in  the 
gardens  of  Worcester  College,  where  the  Woolwich 
band  was  in  attendance,  I  need  say  little.     All  Oxford 
was  gay  with   the  company  which  the  coming  cere- 
monies had  gathered.     I  may  mention  my  dining  on 
the  Tuesday  with   my  friend   Mr.  Jones  in  the  hall 
of    St.   John's.     A    curious    Oxford    scene    that    was: 
the  Dons,  at  the  high  table  on  the  dais  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  hall,  and  also  at  a  table  at  right  angles 
with  it  extendino-  down  the  centre,  had  their  friends 
with  them,  many  of  them  ladies,  who  had  come  up  for 
the  Commemoration.     Among  the  dignitaries  present 
was  Professor  Mansel,  the  chief  ornament  then  of  St. 
John's,  afterward  dean  of  St.  Paul's  —  a  robust,  well- 
looking  man.      All  the  college  plate  was  displayed, 
and  there  were  flowers  and  other  decorations.     From 
the  walls  portraits  of    Laud  and    Juxon    and    others 
looked   down   on   the  scene,  and  far  above  was  the 

open-work    roof.     My  place    was   with    J at   the 

undergraduates'  table,  where  there  was  perhaps  a 
trifle  more  freedom  than  at  the  high  table.  My  com- 
panions were  certainly  a  jolly  set.  One  of  them  de- 
clared that  the  president  of  St.  John's  —  the  august 
head  of  the  college  — had  just  sent  for  "  gooseberry 
fool "  for  himself  and  his  especial  guest,  and  that  the 
order  which  went  sounding  from  the  hall  to  the  but- 


228  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERTDGES 

ter}^  adjoining  was  "  president  and  friend,  two  fools." 
We  adjourned  before  long  to  Jones's  room,  and  then 

followed  what  is  known  as  an  Oxford  wine.     J 's 

scout  was  sent  out  to  order  dessert,  and  soon  oranges 
and  ices  were  brought,  and  sherry-cobblers  were  made, 
and  claret  was  produced,  and  talk  went  on,  and  the  thing 
was  like  a  chapter  out  of  "  Tom  Brown."  There  is  the 
utmost  freedom  with  each  other  on  the  part  of  the 
Oxford  men,  but  there  is  courtesy  and  evident  good 
feeling.  They  love  Oxford  intensely  and  all  belong- 
ing to  it.  The  wine-drinking,  I  may  say,  was  very 
moderate. 

At  length  the  great  day  dawned  —  Wednesday.  I 
breakfasted  with  Mr.  Mountague  Bernard  at  All  Souls' 
—  Professor  of  International  Law  at  Oxford  and  a 
very  accomplished  man.  He  was  a  Fellow  of  All 
Souls' ;  this  college  has  the  distinction  which  I  am 
sure  all  professors  elsewhere  will  thoroughly  appre- 
ciate, that  it  has  no  students.  Such  was  the  case  at 
the  time  of  which  I  write.  But  a  period  of  change 
was  then  beginning,  and  the  stately  leisure  of  the  All 
Souls'  Fellows  and  professors  may  have  since  been  en- 
croached upon.  (I  may  mention  that  Mr.  Bernard 
twelve  years  later  was  one  of  the  High  Commis- 
sioners who  arranged  the  Geneva  Arbitration.)  The 
time  came  for  us  to  go,  and  my  host,  putting  on  his 
cap  and  his  embroidered  gown  —  being  that  which 
his  professorship  entitled  him  to  wear  —  conducted 
me  to  the  entrance  to  the  theatre.  All  was  excite- 
ment there.     A  mob  was  assembled  to  see  the  privi- 


THE  OXFORD   COMMEMORATION"  229 

leged  ones  go  in,  and  carriages  were  going  about,  and 
there  was  all  the  movement  and  stir  that  marks  a  great 
day.     Under  Mr.  Bernard's  protection  I  passed  safely 
through  the  files  of  university  police  and  entered  the 
theatre.     What  a  scene  it  was !     A  huge  semicircular 
room  with  seats  all  around  it,  those  in  the  middle  be- 
ing for  ladies,  tier  above  tier.     And  over  their  seats  a 
gallery  in  which  the  undergraduates  were  gathered, 
piled,  as  it  were,  thick  upon  each  other,  and  roaring 
and  yelling  like  madmen.     My  place  was  on  the  floor 
—  standing-room  only  —  there  were  no  seats.     It  was 
ten    o'clock;    the  ceremonies  would   not  begin  until 
eleven.     The  ladies  were  nearly  all   in  their  places, 
but   a   few   who    were   late   came   dropping   in.     Of 
course    the   undergraduates    thought  it  necessary  to 
remonstrate  with  them  for  being  late ;  they  thought 
it  right  also  to  urge  the  proctors  to  find  seats  for 
these  fair  ones  without  delay.    "  Do  your  duty,  Ben  !  " 
was  their  cry  addressed  to  the  warden  of  Wadham, 
who  in  his  red  robes  of  office  was  the  chief  figure  in 
conducting  these  late  comers.     The  ladies  themselves, 
on  whom  all  eyes  were  thus  turned,  looked  sufficiently 
uncomfortable.     Then  the  attention  of  the  young  men 
would  be  drawn  to  persons  entering  the  theatre  with- 
out uncovering.      "  Hats  off ! "  was    the   peremptory 
cry.     Once   a  straw  hat  was   observed.     "  Out   with 
that  straw !     Officers,  do  your  duty !  "  was  the  long- 
continued  shout     Names  were  called  to  be  cheered. 
The  "  Bishop   of    Oxford "   ( Wilberforce)  was  among 
the  first  proposed;    then  "Garibaldi,"  who  had   just 


230  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

begun  his  splendid  Italian  career.  Gladstone's  name 
was  much  disputed  over — cheers  and  groans.  Groans 
for  John  Bright  were  given  very  heartily.  It  was  the 
period  when  the  aristocracy  of  England  had  little 
love  for  that  great  man.  Cheers  for  the  "ladies 
in  pink,"  "in  mauve,"  for  the  "ladies  under  twenty- 
one  " ;  tremendous  cheers  for  the  "  Prince  of  Wales  " ; 
then  "  for  ourselves ";  "  for  everybody"  —  "  except  John 
Bright,"  a  single  voice  added.^  It  was  all  very  excit- 
ing. The  ladies  assembled  showed  lively  interest  in 
all  that  was  going  on ;  they  were  a  brilliant  company, 
their  costumes  making  a  splendour  of  colour  in  the 
midday  light. 

The  Vice-Chancellor's  seat  was,  as  it  were,  flanked 
by  the  seats  of  the  ladies,  and  it  was  directly  opposite 
the  grand  entrance.  I  may  mention  that  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  is  the  head  of  the  whole  University.  The 
Chancellor  is  always  a  nobleman  of  the  highest  rank, 
but  he  appears  only  on  great  occasions,  and  at  rare 
intervals.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  Chancellor 
for  many  years ;  at  the  time  of  which  I  write  the  Earl 
of  Derby  held  the  office ;  it  is  now  held  by  the  Mar- 
quis of  Salisbury.  To  the  right  of  the  Vice-Chancel- 
lor's chair  was  a  seat  on  the  back  of  which  was  a  gilt 
crown  or  crest  surmounted  by  gilded  plumes.  It  was 
the  chair  used  by  the  Prince  Regent  at  the  visit  of  the 

1  Some  twenty  years  later  Oxford  did  honour  to  itself  by  conferring 
its  degree  on  John  Bright.  Time  had  wrought  its  wholesome  change  in 
opinion.  The  appearance  in  the  theatre  of  the  great  Liberal  chief  in  his 
doctor's  robes  was  the  signal  for  a  tempest  of  cheers ;  the  new  genera- 
tion showed  themselves  of  one  mind  in  their  wish  to  do  him  honour. 


THE  OXFORD   COMMEMORATION-  23 1 

Allied  Sovereigns,  and  was  now  to  be  occupied  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales. 

Eleven  o'clock  at  length  struck;  the  great  doors 
were  thrown  open,  and  "  God  save  the  Queen,"  was 
given  forth  by  the  organ.  First  of  all  in  the  proces- 
sion, as  ranking  all,  came  the  Prince  —  a  fair,  slender 
boy.  True,  he  was  between  eighteen  and  nineteen, 
but  he  had  a  very  youthful  look.  (It  will  be  perceived 
I  am  speaking  of  a  period  nearly  forty  years  ago,  when 
the  Prince  was  an  Oxford  student).  His  face  had  a 
certain  sweetness  —  a  grave,  pensive  expression.  He 
smiled  pleasantly  as  he  bowed.  There  was  little  that 
was  intellectual  in  his  countenance,  yet  he  seemed  in- 
terested in  what  went  on  around  him.  I  fancied  in 
him  a  certain  repose  or  serenity  befitting  a  royal  per- 
sonage. To  me  there  was,  at  that  time,  a  fascination 
about  the  youth.  Doubtless  it  was  the  remembrance 
of  the  long  line  of  kings  from  whom  he  has  sprung, 
and  there  was  something,  too,  in  the  thought  of  his 
tender  years,  and  the  cares  which  were  by  and  by  to 
come  on  him.  A  storm  of  applause  greeted  him  as 
he  ascended  to  his  seat.  The  ladies,  and  all  the  com- 
pany, stood  up.  He  bowed  again  and  again  to  those 
of  them  he  knew.  Mrs.  Gladstone,  who  was  nearest 
him,  he  shook  hands  with  —  a  handsome  woman, 
sprightly  in  manner. 

The  Vice-Chancellor  took  his  seat,  and  the  other 
dignitaries,  all  in  grand  costume,  ranged  themselves 
in  their  allotted  places.  Canon  Stanley,  as  he  then 
was,  afterward  the  famous   Dean,  was   in  professorial 


232 


WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 


robes  of  scarlet,  or  black  and  scarlet.  The  first  busi- 
ness of  the  day  was  the  reading  by  the  Vice-Chancel- 
lor of  a  Latin  paper  setting  forth  the  especial  claim  or 
merit  of  the  persons  on  whom  degrees  were  to  be  con- 
ferred ;  and  then  the  proposing  to  the  members  of  the 
University  their  names  for  approval  or  otherwise, 
''Placetiie  Vobis  Domini  Doctores  ?  "  said  he,  address- 
ing the  Doctors  present,  and  then  ''Placetne  Vobis 
Mao-istri  ?  "  turnins:  to  two  Masters  of  Arts  who  stood 
in  cap  and  gown  to  figure  that  entire  portion  of  the 
academic  body. 

Lord  Brougham  was  one  of  those  who  were  that 
day  to  be  honoured.  The  time  had  at  length  come 
when  Oxford  was  willing  to  recognize  the  eminence 
of  the  great  Whig  leader.  When  his  name  was  read 
in  the  list  there  was  tremendous  applause,  and  it  was 
some  time  before  the  Vice-Chancellor  could  go  on. 
The  Swedish  Ambassador  and  some  other  foreign 
dignitary  were  two  of  the  names  read  and  accepted 
without  much  disturbance.  Next  in  order  was  the 
name  of  Sir  Richard  Bethell.  No  sooner  had  this 
been  uttered  than  shouts  of  dissent  came  from  the 
galleries,  and  there  was  prodigious  uproar.  The  un- 
dergraduates, it  was  plain,  were  utterly  opposed  to 
this  Whig  lawyer's  receiving  a  degree.  He  was  ob- 
noxious to  the  Conservative  party  as  being  a  leading 
member,  in  the  Whig  interest,  of  Lord  Palmerston's 
Government,  and  as  the  author  of  the  Divorce  Bill.  I 
may  add  that  he  was  afterward  Lord  Chancellor  under 
the  title  of  Lord  Westbury. 


THE  OXFORD   COMMEMORATION  233 

The  Vice-Chancellor  waited,  as  well  he  might,  for  no 
word  of  his  could  have  been  heard.  At  length  there 
was  a  slight  lull ;  the  "'Placetne  Vobis','  was  hurried 
over  as  quickly  as  possible,  but  not  without  the  yells  of 
disapproval  being  again  sent  forth.  Then  came  the 
name  of  Sir  Leopold  McClintock  —  discoverer  of  the 
remains  of  Sir  John  Franklin's  expedition  —  an  adroit 
arrangement  this,  for  a  popular  name  would  appease 
the  incensed  crowd.  Instantly  a  shout  of  approval 
burst  forth,  and  cheer  after  cheer  was  given.  Last  of 
all  was  the  name  of  John  Lothrop  Motley ;  this  was 
received  respectfully  but  calmly. 

Now  came  the  entry  into  the  theatre  of  the  men  who 
were  to  be  thus  honoured.  Each  was  in  flowing  robes  of 
scarlet.  The  Regius  Professor  of  Civil  Law,  Dr.  Twiss, 
conducted  them  singly  toward  the  Vice-Chancellor,  and 
then  in  sonorous  Latin  set  forth  their  achievements 
or  their  fame.  First,  the  Swedish  Ambassador ;  his 
merits  having  been  recited  by  Dr.  Twiss,  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  addressed  him  as  "  Vir  ilhistrissime',''  and 
then  conferred  the  degree.  The  Ambassador  wore 
his  scarlet  robe  over  his  foreign  uniform,  or  court 
dress.  He  ascended  the  steps,  and  the  Vice-Chancel- 
lor gave  him  his  hand,  and  he  took  his  seat  among 
the  other  dignitaries.  Lord  Brougham  was  the  next, 
and  his  appearance  was  the  signal  for  such  a  frenzy  of 
cheering  as,  I  fancy,  had  not  often  before  been  heard 
within  those  walls.  I  was  close  to  the  old  man,  and 
watched  the  play  of  muscles  in  his  countenance,  as 
with  downcast  eyes  he  received  the  recognition  of  the 


234  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

young  men  of  England  of  his  great  name  and  fame. 
He  was  then  over  eighty,  and  his  hair  was  entirely 
white.  I  thought,  as  I  looked  at  him,  of  the  great 
part  he  had  played  in  modern  English  history  —  of 
the  trial  of  Queen  Caroline,  the  stormy  debates  in 
regard  to  Catholic  Emancipation  and  the  Reform 
Bill,  the  long  struggle  for  the  freedom  of  the  West 
Indian  slaves.  I  could  not  foresee  that  in  the  very 
next  year,  when  the  great  cause  of  emancipation  in 
my  own  country  was  in  sore  need  of  moral  support 
from  Lord  Brougham,  that  support  would  be  coldly 
withheld.  But  it  is  charitable  to  suppose  that  age  had 
in  those  last  days  dimmed  faculties  that  were  once  so 
bright. 

At  length  the  Professor  of  Civil  Law  was  allowed  to 
eo  on.  When  the  Vice-Chancellor  addressed  the  ven- 
erable  man,  there  was  a  renewed  burst  of  enthusiasm, 
and  when  he  gave  him  his  hand,  there  was  another. 
Turning  round  and  facing  the  assembly,  the  aged 
peer  bowed  with  dignity  in  acknowledgment  of  his 
great  reception.  At  length  there  was  quiet.  Now 
appeared  Sir  Richard  Bethell.  At  once  there  were 
groans  and  hisses  and  cries  of  all  kinds  —  a  fearful 
din.  Again  I  watched  the  countenance  of  the  man 
who  was  standing  thus,  the  object  of  all  eyes  and 
of  every  one's  thoughts.  His  brow  grew  dark.  I 
feared  that  the  proceedings  might  be  brought  to  a 
sudden  end.  Dr.  Stanley  had  told  us,  at  his  break- 
fast-table the  day  before,  that  the  Vice-Chiancellor 
had  resolved,  if  the  uproar  exceeded  a  certain  limit, 


THE  OXFORD   COMMEMORATION  235 

he  would  at  once  break  up  the  convocation.  By 
and  by  there  was  a  pause ;  hastily  the  concluding 
words  of  the  orator  were  said,  and  quickly,  too,  the 
Vice-Chancellor  did  his  part;  then  Sir  Richard 
ascended  the  steps,  and,  turning  round,  looked  up 
at  the  galleries  and  bowed,  as  though  he  had  some- 
thing to  thank  the  young  men  for.  This  unexpected 
act  seemed  to  awaken  their  better  feelings,  and  there 
was  at  once  applause.  And  so  the  matter  ended 
better  than  it  began. 

What  a  contrast  there  was  when  McClintock  ap- 
peared !  The  Oxford  men  appreciate  hardihood ; 
here  was  a  hero  they  could  thoroughly  understand. 
I  thought  what  a  reward  it  was  for  long  trials  and 
endurance  to  receive  honours  from  this  renowned 
University.  McClintock  was  a  small  man,  unpre- 
tending in  look.  He  wore  his  naval  uniform  under 
his  doctor's  robes.  When  he  ascended  the  steps, 
it  seemed  difificult  at  first  to  find  a  place  for  him. 
He  took  a  low  seat,  but  immediately  room  was  made 
for  him  higher  up,  quite  among  the  ladies.  "  None 
but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair,"  came  in  a  clear 
voice  from  the  undergraduates'  gallery,  and  immedi- 
ately there  was  a  shout  of  laughter  and  cheers. 

Mr.  Motley  was  next  in  order,  and  with  him  the 
list  of  doctors  closed.  His  form  and  features  are 
familiar  to  us  now,  but  to  me  he  was  until  then  a 
stranger,  and  I  certainly  saw  no  finer  face  in  all  that 
company  than  his.  The  young  Oxford  men  seemed 
to  know  little  of  him  (only  his  "  Dutch  Republic  "  had 


236  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

then  appeared),  for  they  received  him  with  but  mod- 
erate cheers.  I  should  mention  that  when,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  proceedings,  the  Vice-Chancellor 
recited  his  claim  to  the  honour  it  was  proposed  to 
confer,  and  dwelt  on  his  merits  as  an  author,  he 
used  the  word  luculentissime  (most  luminous,  per- 
spicuous), and  for  some  reason  or  other  it  caused 
a  laugh.  The  Vice-Chancellor  himself  smiled. 
Whether  it  was  that  the  phrase  was  a  stilted  one, 
the  learned  must  decide.  I  remember  further  that 
when  the  question  Placetne  was  put,  "  Oh,  by  all 
means !  "  was  the  prompt  reply  from  the  gallery. 

I  must  mention  here  a  little  incident  as  showing 
how  pitiless  young  men  are.  One  of  the  eminent 
personages  on  whom  a  degree  was  to  be  conferred 
—  indeed  it  was  Mr.  Motley  —  had  as  a  measure  of 
precaution  brought  his  umbrella  in  with  him.  He 
might  cling  to  it  any  day  of  that  rainy  summer  of 
i860.  He  doubtless  thought  he  had  it  well  hidden 
under  his  scarlet  robes,  but  a  quick-sighted  and  un- 
merciful youth  in  the  gallery  got  a  glimpse  of  it, 
as  the  new-made  D.  C.  L.  was  taking  his  seat,  and  at 
once  there  came  the  shrill  cry,  "  Three  cheers  for 
the  umbrella !  " 

The  conferring  of  degrees  had  now  ended,  but 
the  address  which  gives  title  to  the  day  was  yet  to 
be  delivered  —  an  address  commemorating  Founders 
and  Benefactors.  There  was  stir  and  confusion,  for 
people  were  arranging  to  depart.  The  address  was 
to    be   in    Latin.     Matthew  Arnold    was    the   orator; 


THE  OXFORD    COMMEMORATION  237 

he  appeared  in  a  reading-desk  or  pulpit  projecting 
from  a  side  gallery,  and  began  his  task.  Nobody- 
seemed  to  listen,  but  Mr.  Arnold's  manner  gave 
one  the  impression  that  he  did  not  in  the  least 
expect  attention  would  be  paid  to  him.  With  the 
ending  of  his  address,  the  proceedings  closed. 

I  have  said  little  of  Oxford  as  a  whole,  for  I 
shrink  from  attempting  to  define  its  especial  dig- 
nity and  charm.  Again  and  again  I  have  been 
there,  and  each  time,  "smit  with  its  splendour  and 
its  sweetness,"  I  have  felt  envy  of  the  men  whose 
minds  have  been  moulded  under  influences  so  pecul- 
iar and  so  enduring.  I  have  experienced  what  New- 
man describes  as  the  fascination  which  the  very  face 
and  smile  of  a  University  possess  over  those  who 
come  wathin  its  rano^e.  Oxford  has  indeed  attrac- 
tions  quite  indescribable ;  and  it  would  be  well  if 
more  of  our  countrymen  would  seek  to  enter  into 
the  spirit  of  the  place,  and  experience,  as  they  as- 
suredly w^ould,  its  manifold  impressiveness.  At  the 
visit  of  which  I  have  now  told,  certain  ladies  were 
my  companions.  From  a  letter  from  one  of  them 
I  give  the  following,  which  I  deem  a  fit  ending  of 
my  story. 

"  Surely  never  was  there  a  place  that  had  such 
a  subtle  charm  as  that  old  city,  sitting  like  some 
ancient  sibyl  among  her  deep,  flowery  meadows  and 
embowering  trees,  with  such  a  mystery  of  learning 
and  wisdom  in  her  musing  eyes." 


THE   RIGHT   HONOURABLE   WILLIAM 
EDWARD    FORSTER 


THE    RIGHT    HONOURABLE   WILLIAM 
EDWARD   FORSTER 

On  my  first  visit  to  England  in  1849,  among  my 
letters  of  introduction  —  in  those  days  a  very  im- 
portant part  of  one's  preparation  for  travel  —  was 
a  letter  to  Robert  Forster  of  Tottenham,  a  leading 
member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  I  was  received 
by  him  and  his  four  sisters  very  cordially,  at  their 
pleasant  home  in  one  of  the  quietest  of  the  small 
towns  of  the  London  radius.  They  were  all  past  mid- 
dle ase,  and  none  of  them  had  married.  Their  elder 
brother,  William,  had  married  a  sister  of  Sir  Thomas 
Fowell  Buxton,  and  the  son  and  only  child  of  this 
marriage,  William  Edward  Forster,  was  then  begin- 
ning to  make  himself  a  name.  He  was  the  one  repre- 
sentative of  his  generation,  of  this  excellent  family, 
and  it  is  of  him  that  I  have  now  chiefly  to  speak. 
I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  purity  and  uplifted 
souls  of  this  Tottenham  household  —  their  interest  in 
works  of  charity  of  every  kind,  and  their  deep  sense  of 
religion.  The  saintly  life  has  its  illustration  in  quiet 
and  retired  family  groups  everywhere  —  here  it  was 
peculiarly  manifest.  Robert  Forster  I  sat  with,  in  a 
summer-house  of  his  garden,  late  in  the  sweet  June 

R  241 


242  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

evening,  and  it  was  natural  to  me  to  open,  in  a  way, 
my  mind  to  him.  It  was  interesting  to  him  to  know 
how  it  was  that  as  my  family  had  been  Friends  from 
ahnost  George  Fox's  time,  I  had  strayed  from  the  fold. 
I  made  what  explanation  I  could,  and  at  the  end,  the 
good  old  man  put  his  arm  round  my  neck,  saying, 
almost  with  emotion,  "  I  hope  thou  wilt  keep  thy 
mind  open  to  conviction."  I  felt  in  regard  to  him 
and  his,  I  can  truly  say,  after  this  first  meeting,  that 
they  were  a  family  which  had  been  "  ennobled  by 
purity  of  moral  life  for  many  generations." 

Some  three  years  later  I  was  travelling  in  Switzer- 
land, and  at  Interlachen  met  again  Robert  Forster 
and  his  four  sisters.  I  was  with  them  for  a  day  or 
two,  and  felt  once  more  the  influence  that  went  out 
from  them,  making  it  good  to  be  near  them.  They 
were  kind  to  me  in  every  way,  regarding  me,  perhaps, 
as  a  "  proselyte  of  the  gate."  They  said  to  me,  "  Thou 
must  know  our  nephew,  William  Edward  Forster ;  we 
will  write  to  him,  and  will  hope  thou  canst  make  him 
a  visit."  I  was  only  too  glad  to  respond  to  this,  for  I 
knew  of  him,  and  of  literary  work  he  had  already  done, 
and  I  had  read  especially  his  reply  to  Macaulay  in  de- 
fence of  Penn  —  a  vigorous  and  convincing  pamphlet, 
showing  that  questionable  acts  attributed  by  INIacaulay 
in  his  history,  to  William  Penn,  were  really  the  work 
of  quite  another  person,  a  certain  George  Penne.  I 
knew  also  of  William  Edward  Forster's  keen  interest 
in  all  political  matters  in  England,  and  in  the  great 
question  of  slavery  in  America.     I  knew,  too,  of  his 


]  VILLI  AM  EDWARD   FORSTER  243 

having  been,  on  his  first  coming  of  age,  private  secre- 
tary to  his  uncle,  Sir  Thomas  Fowell  Buxton.  This, 
in  fact,  had  been  the  beginning  of  his  efforts  to  fit 
himself  for  the  career  of  a  statesman.  I  was  eager, 
therefore,  to  meet  one  from  whom  I  could  learn  so 
much,  and  whose  future  seemed  to  me  so  full  of  prom- 
ise. I  knew  that  he  had  married,  a  year  or  two  before, 
the  eldest  daughter  of  Dr.  Arnold  of  Rugby ;  this 
fact  was  of  great  interest  to  me. 

On  my  return  to  England  I  received  a  note  from 
William  Forster,  askincr  me  to  come  to  them  at  their 
Yorkshire  home  at  Burley,  in  the  valley  of  the  Wliarfe. 
I  replied  that  I  should  arrive  at  Ben  Rhyding,  a 
watering-place  within  a  mile  or  two  of  their  residence, 
on  a  Saturday  night,  and  should  perhaps  see  them  at 
church  the  next  day.  I  was  early  at  the  church,  and, 
as  I  sat  on  one  side  of  the  main  aisle,  a  young  lady  of 
slight  and  graceful  figure  passed  me,  and  took  a  seat 
on  the  opposite  side,  higher  up.  I  knew  by  a  sort  of 
instinct  that  this  was  no  other  than  the  dausfhter  of 
Dr.  Arnold.  Soon  a  tall  man,  thin  and  wir}^  with  a 
resolute  expression,  walked  up  and  took  a  seat  beside 
her;  this  was  Forster,  I  felt  no  doubt.  The  service  went 
on.  At  the  end  of  the  sermon,  as  it  was  a  Communion 
Sunday,  many  of  the  congregation  went  out  —  ]\Ir. 
Forster  among  them.  I  remained  for  the  second  service. 
He  stopped  for  a  moment  where  I  was  sitting,  told  me 
his  name,  and  said  his  wife  would  remain,  and  asked  if 
I  would  walk  with  her  to  their  home.  At  the  cliureh 
door    my    acquaintance    with    this    admirable    person 


244  WORDSWORTH  AiYD   THE  COLERIDGES 

began  —  now  forty-six  years  ago ;  her  age  then  was 
about  thirty.  My  instant  feeling  was  that  intelligence, 
refinement,  high  and  pure  thought,  met  in  her,  to- 
gether with  all  feminine  charm.  Long  afterward  I 
learned  that  Wordsworth  had  said  that  in  all  that 
went  to  make  up  excellence  in  women  Jane  Arnold 
was  as  fine  an  example  as  he  had  known. 

What  a  vision  it  is  for  my  memory,  that  pretty 
home  at  Wharfeside,  where  I  first  came  to  know  Will- 
iam Edward  and  Jane  Forster!  Never  was  there 
closer  intellectual  companionship ;  each,  as  it  were, 
supplementing  the  other — his  rugged  strength,  his 
quick  mind,  his  wide  knowledge  of  books,  of  men, 
and  of  affairs  —  her  keen  intelligence,  her  grace  of 
manner,  her  sweet  dignity,  her  tenderness  of  feeling. 

The  pretty  river,  the  Wharfe,  flowed  at  the  foot  of 
their  grounds,  and  soon  after  our  pleasant  meal  we 
went  out  on  its  waters  —  Forster  rowed,  Mrs.  Forster 
and  I  sitting  in  the  stern.  I  remember  his  saying  to 
me,  "  I  understand  you  have  become  an  Episcopal  — 
that  is,  that  you  have  given  up  a  religious  fellowship 
in  which  there  were  no  slaves,  for  one  in  which  there 
are  more  slaves  per  head  than  any  other."  His  wife 
reproved  him  for  his  seeming  discourtesy,  but,  as  his 
look  showed  anything  but  malice,  I  could  forgive  him. 
The  remark  showed  where  we  were  in  that  )'ear  of 
grace,  1852.  It  was  the  year  of  the  "Uncle  Toms 
Cabin  "  excitement.  I  may  mention  that  I  arrived  at 
Liverpool  at  the  end  of  April  of  that  year,  and  told  of 
that  remarkable  book  in  various  households  in  which 


WILL/AM  EDWARD   FORSTER  245 

I  had  chanced  to  visit.  These  friends  have  always 
since  maintained  that  I  brought  the  news  of  the  book 
to  England.  Certainly,  when  I  came  back  from  the 
Continent  at  the  end  of  four  months,  I  found  the 
whole  land  ringing  with  it. 

Another  characteristic  remark  of  Forster's  was  — 
after  inquiring  after  my  Aunt  Lucretia  Mott  —  "I 
remember  listening  in  London  in  1840  to  a  discussion 
between  Mrs.  Mott  and  a  Reverend  Someone,  I  think 
an  American,  on  the  woman  question."  After  a 
pause,  Forster  added,  "  She  whipped  him  to  everlast- 
ing smash."  Mr.  Forster  perhaps  thought  it  polite 
to  use  the  language  of  my  country  in  telling  me  of 
this  incident. 

The  few  days  of  my  visit  went  quickly  by,  and 
every  hour  was  of  enjoyment.  The  evening  talks 
in  the  library  —  a  large  room  which  was,  at  the  same 
time,  the  drawing-room  —  gave  me  the  keenest  pleas- 
ure. The  walls  were  covered  with  books,  showing 
interest  in  literature  of  the  widest  range.  But  it  was 
plain  that  all  literary  interests  were  subordinate  to 
a  deep  concern  in  questions  of  politics  and  Govern- 
ment. My  new  friend  was  to  me  a  striking  example 
of  a  man  of  affairs,  a  man  giving  close  attention  to 
business,  and  yet  securing  to  himself  always  the  in- 
finite solace  of  books  and  study.  Yet  it  was  clear 
that  the  hope  ever  before  him  was  the  taking  part 
in  Government.  He  caught  eagerly  at  every  oppor- 
tunity of  informing  himself  on  all  matters  of  public 
concern,  on  all  Colonial  questions,  on  our  American 


246  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

slavery,  and  on  subjects  of  chief  discussion  and  con- 
troversy in  the  United  States.  He  seemed  from  the 
first  to  have  a  vague  feeHng  that  America  was  to 
go  hand  in  hand  with  England  in  influencing  the 
future  of  the  world.  With  his  wife  he  was  abso- 
lutely one  in  thought  and  feeling,  and  she  "  for- 
warded him  unweariedly,"  to  use  Carlyle's  words, 
"as  none  else  could  in  all  of  worthy  he  did  or  at- 
tempted." She  had  come  to  him  from  an  atmos- 
phere purely  intellectual.  Fox  How  had  been  the 
gathering  place,  always,  of  men  of  distinction  —  Bun- 
sen  and  Whately,  Julius  Hare,  Wordsworth,  Mr.  Jus- 
tice Coleridge,  Hartley  Coleridge,  Frederick  Faber, 
Crabb  Robinson,  Caroline  Fox,  Mrs.  Fletcher,  Dr. 
John  Davy,  Lady  Richardson,  and  Harriet  Martineau, 
are  the  names  that  rise  first  to  one's  mind.  But 
Wordsworth  was  the  commanding  figure  to  whom 
all  paid   instinctive   reverence. 

Dr.  Arnold  stood  for  literary  cultivation  as  much 
as  any  man  in  England ;  his  name  had  become  a 
household  word  in  America  from  the  wide  circula- 
tion of  "Stanley's  Life"  —  far  wider,  owing  to  the 
cheap  reprint,  than  had  been  reached  in  England. 
Mrs.  Forster  seemed  to  me  peculiarly  to  reflect  her 
father.  When  I  came  later  to  know  her  sisters  at 
Fox  How,  one  of  them  said  to  me;  "You  know  the 
one  of  us  who  most  resembles  our  father."  I  felt 
from  the  first  how  remarkably  she  was  fitted  to  be 
the  wife  of  a  statesman.  She  could  well  cherish  the 
hope  that  when  the  opportunity  he  longed  for  came 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  247 

to  her  husband,  she    could    aid    him    in  work  which 
would  have  been  dear  to  her  father's  heart. 

I  took  my  leave  after  this  first  visit,  trusting  a  be- 
ginning had  been  granted  me  of  a  friendship  that 
would  endure.  It  did  last  until  Forster's  death 
thirty-four  years  later,  and  now  twelve  more  years 
have  passed,  and  I  can  count  as  a  blessing  which 
remains  to  me,  my  friendship  with  Mrs.  Forster. 
Three  of  my  children,  too,  have  seen  and  known  her, 
and  I  can  truly  say  for  them  their  feeling  is  alto- 
gether that  of  reverent  affection  and  admiration. 

My  second  visit  to  Wharfeside  was  in  1855.  I 
rejoiced  to  take  part  once  more  in  that  keenly  in- 
tellectual life.  My  friends  very  kindly  went  with  me 
on  a  visit  to  Fountains  Abbey  —  as  glorious  a  ruin 
as  any  in  England.  I  remember  noticing  that  in 
the  group  of  persons  who  were  that  day  making  the 
round  of  the  Abbey  there  was  an  unconscious 
leadership  on  the  part  of  Forster;  I  was  strength- 
ened by  this  in  the  feeling  that  rule  or  government 
would  one  day  fall  to  him.  It  was  something,  as  I 
have  said,  unconscious  on  his  part  —  the  bearing  of 
a  born  ruler  of  men.  It  was  at  this  visit  I  asked 
him  whether  he  did  not  look  to  entering  Parliament. 
He  said  he  did,  but  that  as  yet  he  was  hardly  well 
enough  off.  It  was  clear  to  me  that  during  the  in- 
terval of  my  visits  he  had  been  steadily  preparing 
himself  for  the  work  of  a  legislator.  He  had  written 
for  the  Westminister  Reviezv  a  paper  on  '■  American 
Slavery  "  in  regard  to  which  I  had  had  correspondence 


248  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

with  him.  In  common  with  all  thoughtful  men,  he 
was  considering  what  could  be  the  outcome  of  the 
slavery  agitation  in  America,  which  was  each  year 
becoming  more  acute.  As  yet  the  war  was  five 
years  distant.  But  the  Crimean  war  was  at  that 
time  a  subject  of  keenest  interest  and  anxiety. 
Gladstone  and  Lord  John  Russell  had  just  retired 
from  the  Aberdeen  Government,  declaring  that  peace 
ought  to  be  made,  although  Sebastopol  had  not  as 
yet  fallen.  I  find  in  my  journal  the  record  that 
Forster  was  furious  against  Gladstone  especially,  for 
thus  abandoning  his  colleagues,  he  having  been 
answerable  equally  with  them  for  the  beginning  of 
the  war. 

I  remember  askino:  Forster  whether  he  could  look 
forward  to  a  time  when  John  Bright  would  become 
a  member  of  the  Government.  He  said  the  ques- 
tion was  a  difficult  one  because  of  Bright's  views 
as  to  war  and  in  regard  to  the  Church.  He  added, 
however,  his  conviction  that  whatever  Government 
Bright  became  a  member  of  he  would  practically 
control  —  so  great,  he  considered,  was  his  ability. 
Some  twelve  years  afterward.  Bright  did  become 
one  of  the  Ministry,  and  the  Irish  Land  Bill  of 
1870  was  his  work;  this,  with  the  Bill  for  Disestab- 
lishing the  Irish  Church,  and  Forster's  Education 
Bill,  were  the  chief  acts  of  the  Gladstone  Govern- 
ment of   186S-1874. 

Forster,  at  the  time  of  my  visit  of  1855,  ^^^"^  ^"^" 
ploying  in    his  mills  some  eight    hundred    people, — 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  249 

he  and  his  partner,  —  and  yet  in  some  way  he  seemed 
to  secure  a  good  deal  of  leisure,  and  to  be  able  to 
give  thought  to  literature  and  public  concerns.  He 
was  fortunate  then,  and  later,  when  he  entered  Par- 
liament, in  having  a  partner  who  was  willing  to 
release  him  for  public  duty,  taking  upon  himself 
the  full  burden  of  their  important  manufacturing 
operations.  These  operations  prospered,  however, 
throuoh  all,  and  Forster,  when  he  became  a  mem- 
ber  of  Parliament  and  afterwards  of  the  Govern- 
ment, was  wholly  without  anxiety  as  to  his  business 
affairs.  ^ 

But  at  my  visit  of  1855,  the  prospect  of  a  seat  in 
Parliament  was  as  yet  remote.  The  work  of  prepa- 
ration was  going  on  unceasingly,  so  that  delay  was 
only  fitting  him  more  for  the  position  he  could  feel 
sure  would  be  his,  if  life  lasted.  I  may  note  here 
a  prediction  of  the  first  Sir  Fowell  Buxton  in  regard 
to  his  nephew  Forster,  then  twenty-two.  "  I  shall 
not  live  to  see  it,  but  that  young  man  will  make 
his  mark."  I  give  this  from  the  "  Life  of  W.  E. 
Forster,"  by  Wemyss  Reid.  I  can  truly  say  that  a 
like  conviction  was  never  absent  from  my  mind  from 
my  first  knowledge  of  my  friend. 

In  this  waiting  time  of  1855,  literary  matters  could 
claim  much  of  Forster's  attention.  In  that  month 
of  August  "  Maud "  had  just  appeared,  and  had 
caused  a  great  stir.  I  remember  that  in  railway 
carriages  you  constantly  found  people  reading  it. 
Much  talk  of  it  went  on  at  Wharfeside.     The  "  Ode 


2  50  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,"  which  appeared  in  the 
same  volume,  impressed  Forster  profoundly.  I  re- 
member the  feeling  with  which  he  read  it  aloud  to 
us  —  that  and  the  "Charge  of  the  Six  Hundred." 
The  two  poems  seemed  to  go  to  his  inmost  heart. 
Charles  Kingsley,  whom  I  came  to  know  in  1857, 
said  to  me  Forster  should  have  gone  into  the  army: 
"  He  would  have  been  a  major-general  by  this 
time."  But  he  was  an  Englishman  before  all  things, 
animated  by  an  extreme  desire  for  liberal  progress 
and  for  the  true  advancement  of  his  country. 

The  Crimean  war  ended,  and  our  ^avery  matters 
were  more  and  more  occupying  the  attention  of 
statesmen  on  both  sides  the  Atlantic.  I  was  in 
England  again  in  1857,  and  was  staying  at  Fenton's 
Hotel,  St.  James's  Street,  London.  A  knock  at  my 
door  in  the  morning  —  there  was  my  friend!  He 
had  come  up  to  London  suddenly,  because  of  a 
parliamentary  vacancy  which  had  just  occurred.  He 
had  seen  my  name  on  the  books  of  the  hotel.  He 
had  strong  hope  of  securing  the  nomination,  but,  by 
some  chicanery  of  a  committee,  it  was  given  to 
another.  As  I  have  already  quoted  from  Charles 
Kingsley,  Forster  was  hardly  the  man  to  deal  with  the 
tracasseries  of  an  election  contest ;  his  time  of  waiting 
and  of  preparation  was  to  go  on  for  yet  three  years. 

In  a  month  or  two  I  was  once  more  at  Wharfe- 
side.  I  found  there  Thomas  Arnold,  Mrs.  Forster's 
brother,  with  his  wife  and  little  children,  fresh 
from    Tasmania.      Arnold's    history,    as    Forster    in- 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  251 

formed  me,  was  that,  after  a  distinguished  career 
at  Oxford,  he  went  out  to  New  Zealand,  Dr.  Arnold 
having  bought  land  there.  The  young  scholar  gave 
himself  to  sheep  farming.  Happily,  before  much 
time  had  been  wasted  on  this  occupation,  Captain 
Owen  Stanley,  brother  of  the  afterwards  famous 
Dean,  callinof  at  Auckland  in  command  of  one  of 
her  Majesty's  ships,  heard  of  young  Arnold,  and, 
meeting  him,  saw  at  once  how  unfitted  he  was  for 
bucolic  pursuits.  Captain  Stanley's  next  call  was 
at  a  port  in  Tasmania  then  known  as  Van  Diemen's 
Land.  He  told  Sir  William  Denison,  the  governor, 
of  Arnold.  Sir  William  at  once  sent  for  him  and 
made  him  Inspector  of  Schools  for  Tasmania.  He 
remained  there,  and  there  also  became  a  Roman 
Catholic.  I  asked  Forster  if  this  chano:e  was  the  re- 
suit  of  Oxford  and  High  Church  influences.  "  Quite 
the  contrary,"  said  Forster ;  "  it  was  a  reaction  from 
Latitudinarianism."  My  impression  is  that  Jowett 
had  more  influence  on  him  than  any  one  else  in 
his  Oxford  days.  His  wife  had  not  followed  him 
in  his  change.  Mrs.  Forster  remarked  to  me  that, 
though  it  would  seem  strange  for  her  to  say  it,  she 
could  almost  regret  that  her  sister-in-law  had  not 
gone  with  her  husband.  The  little  children  who  were 
playing  there  were  too  young  for  me  to  take  much 
note  of.     One  of  them  is  now  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

I  had  delightful  walks  and  talks  with  Forster  and 
his  brother-in-law  —  "our  Papist  brother"  he  called 
him.     I  was  much  impressed  with  Thomas  Arnold; 


252  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

he  seemed  a  keenly  intellectual  man,  and  to  have 
deep  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  opinions  he  had 
embraced.  He  is,  I  think,  the  only  man  I  have  ever 
known,  who  has  made  that  change,  who  awakened  any 
questionings  in  my  own  mind.  He  had  made  sacri- 
fice, I  think,  of  his  worldly  fortune  by  his  change. 

I  remember  Forster's  saying  to  him  one  day  after 
dinner,  "  Tom,  I  had  an  experience  lately  at  a  meeting 
to  consider  my  nomination  for  Parliament.  A  story 
had  got  about  that  I  had  High  Church  leanings,  and 
that  as  my  brother-in-law  had  turned  Papist,  I  might 
go  the  same  way.  I  was  anxious  to  meet  this,  so  I 
arranged  for  some  one  to  put  the  question  to  me. 
The  meeting,  however,  silenced  the  questioner  at 
once,  and  my  little  scheme  failed." 

But  the  animated  conversations  on  political  and 
literary  matters  in  the  large  drawing-room-library  are 
the  chief  memory  for  me  of  my  visit  of  that  year. 
Each  evening  the  talk  went  on,  Mrs.  Forster  making 
tea  for  us.  The  Indian  mutiny  was  of  absorbing 
interest,  the  arrival  of  the  Ti7iies  in  the  early  after- 
noon being  the  chief  event  of  the  day.  William 
Arnold,  another  brother  of  Mrs.  Forster,  was  at  that 
time  Inspector  of  Schools  in  the  Punjaub.  Letters 
from  him  were  read  showing  his  forebodings  of  three 
months  before ;  his  latest  letters  were  read,  also  show- 
ing his  belief  that  the  Punjaub  would  be  a  tower  of 
strength  to  the  EngHsh  rule  in  India.  The  Punjaub, 
under  the  lead  of  Sir  John  Lawrence,  did,  in  fact,  save 
India. 


WILLI  AM  EDIVARD  FORSTER  253 

Ireland  was  another  of  the  subjects  of  our  talk, 
then,  and  for  long  years  before,  of  chief  concern  to 
English  legislators.  Forster  had  been  Carlyle's  com- 
panion on  a  short  Irish  tour  in  1849.  But  Carlyle's 
feeling  at  the  misery  they  witnessed  was  more  of 
wrath  than  of  pity,  for  to  him  the  suffering  was  but 
the  people's  deserving.  Forster,  who  had  seen  the 
famine  of  two  years  before,  and  had  taken  an  active 
part  in  administering  relief,  was  shocked  at  the  almost 
exultation  of  Carlyle  at  the  wretchedness  of  the  peo- 
ple. The  travelling  companionship  soon  came  to  an 
end,  and  the  intercourse  between  the  two  thereafter 
was  slight.  A  scene  described  by  Forster  in  a  letter 
may  be  worth  quoting  here,  of  the  date  of  1847,  some 
years  before  his  marriage.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carlyle  were 
Forster's  sfuests  at  Rawdon  for  three  weeks.  He  took 
them  to  the  Derbyshire  region,  and  at  Buxton  at  a 
table  d'hote  Forster  was  at  the  bottom  as  last  comer, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carlyle  at  his  right,  and  a  tall,  starched, 
gentlemanly  Irish  parson  on  his  left. 

"  For  a  time  all  went  on  easily  [says  Forster],  in  silent 
feeding  or  low  grumbling,  till  at  last  Carlyle  began  to  con- 
verse with  parson,  then  to  argue  with  him  on  Ireland,  then 
to  lose  thought  of  all  arguments  or  table  d'hote,  and  to  de- 
claim. How  they  did  stare  !  All  other  speech  was  hushed  ; 
some  looked  aghast,  others  admiring ;  none  of  them  had  ever 
heard  or  seen  anything  approach  to  such  monster.  We  re- 
mained tJicog  the  whole  time,  spite  of  all  the  schemes  of  the 
guests,  and  the  entreaties  of  the  waiter  to  book  our  names, 
and  my  proposal  to  Mrs.  Carlyle  to  save  our  expenses  by 
showing  him  at  so  much  a  head." 


254  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Another  incident  of  this  visit  of  the  Carlyles  to 
Forster  was  his  being  thrown  from  a  gig  when  driv- 
ing with  Mrs.  Carlyle.  The  horse  took  fright  and 
dashed  down  a  long  hill.  Mrs.  Carlyle  showed  won- 
derful presence  of  mind  —  turning  her  back  to  the 
horse  and  embracing  the  gig,  and  so  when  it  was  over- 
turned, rolling  out  without  being  hurt.  Forster  was 
a  somewhat  reckless  driver.  He  tells  himself  this 
further  story  of  his  bachelor  days.  He  had  picked 
up  an  old  man,  one  of  his  work  people.  "  The  pace 
down  the  hill  astonished  the  old  man,  who  shut  his 
eyes  and  clenched  the  seat  in  mortal  fear.  He 
reached  his  home,  however,  safely,  and  soon  after  his 
son  came  in  looking  very  glum:  'What's  t'  matter 
with  thee,'  lad } '  '  What's  t'  matter  with  thee,  fey- 
ther?  Why  could  na'  thou  see  me,  a  bit  sin'? 
Thou  might  have  taken  notice  of  thy  son,  though 
thou  was  in  Mr.  Forster's  gig.'  '  Eh,  bless  thee, 
lad ;  I  had  more  to  do  than  to  take  notice  of  thee. 
I  was  ower  throng  (busy)  making  my  peace  with  my 
Maker ! ' " 

Forster's  comment  on  Carlyle  after  the  three  weeks' 
visit  was :  "  He  certainly  is  a  most  delightful  com- 
panion, a  rich  store  of  hearty,  genial,  social  kindness 
shining  through  his  assumed  veil  of  misanthropy,  and 
often  the  more  conspicuous  from  his  efforts  to  con- 
ceal or  disown  it,  and  his  eccentric  humour,  striking 
laughter  out  of  all  manner  of  every-day,  trivial 
occurrences." 

A  proposal  to  abolish  the  Lord  Lieutenantship  of 


WILLIAM  EDWARD   FORSTER  255 

Ireland  was  a  subject  of  discussion  in  1857,  and  I 
remember  Forster's  taking  down  from  his  shelf 
Thackeray's  Ballads  and  reading  with  inimitable 
effect  "  Molony's  Lament  "  — 

"  O  Tim,  did  ye  hear  of  thim  Saxons, 

And  read  what  the  peepers  repoort? 
They're  goan  to  recal  the  Liftinant, 

And  shut  up  the  Castle  and  Coort ! 
Our  desolate  counthry  of  Oireland, 

They're  bint,  the  Blagyards,  to  desthroy, 
And  now,  having  murthered  our  counthry, 

They're  goin'  to  kill  the  viceroy, 
Dear  boy ; 
'Twas  he  was  our  proide  and  our  joy  !  " 

and  again : 

"  And  what's  to  become  of  poor  Dame  Sthreet, 

And  who'll  ait  the  puffs  and  the  tarts, 
When  the  Coort  of  imparial  splindor 

From  Doblin's  sad  city  departs? 
And  who'll  have  the  fiddlers  and  pipers. 

When  the  deuce  of  a  Coort  there  remains? 
And  wher'll  be  the  bucks  and  the  ladies, 

To  hire  the  Coort-shuits  and  the  thrains? 
In  sthrains 
It's  thus  that  ould  Erin  complains  ! " 

Forster  had  a  true  sense  of  humour;  I  remember 
the  delight  with  which  he  read,  at  a  later  visit,  bits 
from  Artemus  Ward.  But  the  conversation  on  Ire- 
land, at  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  and  the  quotation 
from  Thackeray,  were  of  peculiar  interest  to  me  in 
recollection  thirteen  years  later,  when  my  friend  had 
taken  on  himself  the  awful  burden  and  responsibility 
of  the  government  of  that  unhappy  country. 


256  WORDSWORTH  AIVD    THE   COLERIDGES 

In  my  visit  of  1857,  I  saw  in  Forster's  intense 
interest  in  all  that  concerned  his  country  how  much 
there  was  in  him  of  the  making  of  a  statesman, 
and  I  longed  more  than  ever  for  his  entry  into 
Parliament.  In  February,  1861,  he  was  returned  for 
Bradford,  and  that  constituency  he  represented  for 
five  and  twenty  years  —  though  he  had  contest  after 
contest  to  sustain. 

My  correspondence  with  my  friend  continued  after 
my  return  to  America  in  1857.  The  clouds  were 
gathering,  and  it  was  plain  that  momentous  days  v»-ere 
at  hand.  The  nomination  of  Lincoln  in  i860,  or, 
perhaps  I  should  say,  the  debate  between  Lincoln 
and  Douglas  in  Illinois  in  1858,  was  the  first  signal 
of  the  great  conflict.  No  Englishman  had  more  thor- 
oughly informed  himself  as  to  the  question  involved 
in  the  great  struggle.  Our  war  went  on,  and  its 
varying  fortunes  were  watched  by  Forster  with  in- 
tense solicitude,  and  both  in  Parliament  and  before  his 
constituents  his  voice  was  raised  in  our  behalf.  No 
one,  except  Mr.  Bright,  was  more  conspicuous  than 
he  in  our  defence,  for  no  one  spoke  with  fuller  know- 
ledge. He  felt,  as  Mr.  Bright  did,  that  the  cause  of 
free  institutions  was  involved  in  the  issue.  He  was 
vigilant  in  the  House  of  Commons  in  making  head 
against  the  men  who  were  in  sympathy  with  the 
South.  I  regret  to  say  that  Lord  Robert  Cecil,  now 
the  Marquis  of  Salisbury,  was  very  prominent  among 
the  friends  of  the  Confederates.  Few  men  in  public 
life  have  advanced  more,  morally  as  well  as  intellec- 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  257 

tually,  with  advancing  life,  than  the  present  Prime 
Minister  of  England. 

William  Forster  was  in  constant  communication 
with  Charles  Francis  Adams  during  the  war,  giving 
him  all  the  aid  he  could.  Mr.  Adams  told  me  this, 
and  especially  of  his  suggestion  to  him  of  a  legal 
adviser  when,  as  to  the  matter  of  the  Alabama,  it 
became  necessary  to  employ  English  counsel.  The 
opinion  then  given  compelled  the  English  Govern- 
ment to  act  —  though  all  too  late. 

Forster  made  his  mark  in  the  House  very  early, 
though  he  was  not  what  would  be  called  a  good 
speaker.  His  force  of  character,  his  clearness  of 
mind,  and  his  wide  knowledge  were  at  once  recog- 
nized. In  1865,  he  had  been  four  years  in  Parlia- 
ment ;  before  the  year  closed  he  was  a  member  of 
the  Ministry.  Lord  Palmerston  had  died  and  Lord 
Russell  was  once  more  Prime  Minister.  The  Reform 
Bill  the  Government  brought  in  failed  because  of  the 
defection  of  Robert  Lowe.  Lord  Russell  resigned 
and  Lord  Derby  came  in.  Disraeli,  as  leader  of  the 
House  in  the  new  Government,  brought  in  another 
Reform  Bill  more  advanced  than  the  one  which  had 
been  defeated.  Disraeli's  object  in  this  measure  was 
to  "dish  the  Whigs."  "Household  suffrage,"  Sir 
Henry  Maine  says,  "  was  introduced  into  towns  to 
dish  one  side,  and  into  counties  to  dish  the  other." 
Sir  Henry  Maine  makes  the  further  acute  remark 
that  "  universal  suffrage  in  England  would  have  pro- 
hibited the  spinning-jenny  and  the  power-loom."     "  A 


258  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE   COLERIDGES 

leap  in  the  dark,"  Lord  Derby  called  this  bill  of  Dis- 
raeli's, but,  all  the  same,  he  accepted  it  as  a  party  meas- 
ure, and  the  Tories  and  landed  proprietors  voted  for 
it,  and  it  became  law.  I  was  present  at  the  final  vote 
on  this  measure  in  the  House  of  Lords  in  August, 
1867.  I  had  my  own  thoughts  at  this  further  widening 
of  the  suffrage  in  view  of  our  American  experience. 
"  Shooting  Niagara,"  Carlyle  called  it,  saying,  "  it  is 
well  that  he  they  call  Dizzy  is  to  do  it  —  a  superlative 
Hebrew  conjuror,  spellbinding  all  the  great  Lords, 
great  Parties,  great  Interests  of  England,  to  his  hand 
in  this  manner,  and  leading  them  by  the  nose,  like 
helpless,  mesmerized,  somnambulant  cattle." 

I  anticipate  events  by  stating  that  while  Disraeli  s 
bill  became  law,  he  did  not  remain  long  in  power. 
The  Liberals  came  in  and  went  on  with  reform  in 
their  own  fashion.  In  1872  there  seemed  a  pause, 
and  Disraeli  took  the  opportunity  to  say  in  a  speech 
at  Manchester :  — 

"  As  I  sat  opposite  the  treasury  bench  the  Ministers 
reminded  me  of  those  marine  landscapes  not  unusual 
on  the  coasts  of  South  America.  You  behold  a  range 
of  exhausted  volcanoes.  Not  a  flame  flickers  on  a 
single  pallid  crest.  But  the  situation  is  still  danger- 
ous. There  are  occasional  earthquakes,  and  ever  and 
anon  the  dark  rumbling  of  the  sea." 

Walter  Bagehot  said  of  Disraeli,  "  His  wheat  is 
worthless,  but  his  chaff  the  best  in  the  world."  Of 
this  latter  the  above  is  a  fine  example. 

I  had  but  brief  sight  of  William   Forster  in  that 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  259 

year,  1867.  In  186S  Gladstone  came  into  office  for 
the  first  time  as  Prime  Minister,  and  Forster  was 
made  vice-president  of  the  Council,  though,  to  the 
surprise  of  many,  he  was  not  of  the  Cabinet  proper. 
It  was  not  until  the  death  of  Lord  Clarendon  in  iS 70, 
that  he  was  sworn  in  as  one  of  the  group  of  ten  or 
twelve  men  on  whom  the  Government  of  England 
rests.  I  had  companionship  with  him  in  this  year, 
and  looked  on  for  a  night  or  two  as  he  was  carrying 
through  the  House  his  great  Education  Bill,  —  a 
measure  to  give  common  school  education  to  the 
English  people.  I  remember  a  speech  from  below 
the  gangway  on  the  Government  side,  which  was  flow- 
ing and  eloquent  and  which  was  in  support  of  the 
bill,  though  it  closed  with  the  offer  of  an  amendment. 
The  speaker  was  Sir  William  Harcourt,  When  he 
sat  Sown  Forster  rose,  and  said  he  must  express  the 
satisfaction  of  the  Government  at  the  support  of  the 
honourable  and  learned  member,  but  that  this  satis- 
faction would  have  been  greater  if  the  support  had 
been  offered  at  an  earlier  stage  of  the  bill.  With 
regard  to  the  particular  amendment  offered  by  the 
honourable  and  learned  member  he  must  take  leave 
to  say  that  no  amendment  had  been  offered  that  had 
less  to  recommend  it.  I  saw  plainly  enough  from 
Forster's  remark  that  there  was  something  of  political 
rivalry  between  these  two  eminent  men. 

The  Education  Act  of  1870  was  the  especial  work 
of  William  Edward  Forster.  Again  and  again 
schemes    for    common    school    education   had    been 


26o  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

brought  forward,  and  again  and  again  there  had  been 
failure.  The  leading  feature  of  Forster's  plan  was 
the  recognition  of  the  schools  which  had  been  estab- 
lished by  the  different  religious  bodies  of  the  country, 
for  the  education  of  the  poor  —  continuing  them  and 
subsidizing  them.  Wherever  there  was  no  school, 
the  Government  would  establish  and  maintain  one, 
the  local  authority  directing  it  —  such  school  to  be 
known  as  a  Board  School.  Forster  had  full  charge  of 
the  difficult  work  of  carrying  through  Parliament  this 
great  measure.  He  told  me  he  had  always  the  cor- 
dial support  of  Gladstone,  as  his  chief,  but  the  meas- 
ure was  essentially  his,  and  he  had  ever  to  be  on  the 
watch  to  meet  opposers.  Alas !  for  human  weakness, 
the  Nonconformists  raised  the  cry  that  the  Church 
of  England  would  receive  benefit  from  the  measure. 
Members  of  the  Church  had  been  far  more  active  than 
the  Dissenters  had  been ;  hence  the  Government  aid 
would  seem  to  be  especially  extended  to  them.  Fors- 
ter knew  that  this  would  be  complained  of,  but  he  knew 
also  that  there  would  be  no  possibility  of  carrying 
through  a  scheme  of  education  for  the  whole  of  Eng- 
land except  by  the  plan  he  proposed.  Any  other  plan 
would  have  involved  the  building  of  schoolhouses 
everywhere,  and  the  throwing  over  of  the  schools, 
which,  as  works  of  charity  and  religion,  had  already 
been  set  up.  William  Forster  was  not  himself  a 
Churchman  ;  he  was  aiming  before  all  things  to  edu- 
cate the  people ;  in  no  other  way  could  he  accomplish 
this.      He  saw  how  seriously  his  personal  popularity 


WILLI  AM  EDWARD  FORSTER  26 1 

would  be  affected  by  the  course  he  took,  but  he  acted 
in  the  light  of  duty.  His  scheme,  moreover,  involved 
the  recognition  of  religion  as  a  primary  influence  in 
the  beginnino:  of  education.  His  heart  was  made 
heavy  by  the  outcry  that  was  raised.  He  told  me  the 
opposition  of  the  Nonconformists  was  a  blow  struck 
at  once  at  religion,  and  at  education.  Even  John 
Brioht  was  not  free  from  what  I  must  call  sectarian 
prejudice,  in  the  half-hearted  support  he  gave  to  Fors- 
ter.  Yet  Forster  was  almost  of  the  same  faith  as 
Bright.  He  told  me  that,  while  he  had  ceased  to  be 
in  formal  membership  with  the  Society  of  Friends, 
he  could  never  be  of  any  other  religious  body.  The 
Friends,  he  said,  had  disowned  him  for  the  best  act 
of  his  life,  which  was  his  marriage  (marrying,  as  the 
phrase  is,  "out  of  meeting").  This  in  no  way  affected 
his  feeling  for  them.  The  memory  of  his  father  was, 
moreover,  to  him  almost  a  religion.  William  Forster 
the  elder  was  a  man  of  saintly  life,  considering,  through 
all  his  days,  the  supreme  duty  laid  upon  him  to  be  the 
deepening  a  sense  of  religion  in  the  souls  of  men.  I 
must  add,  however,  a  remark  once  made  to  me  by 
Forster:  "It  was  hard  on  my  mother.  I  was  but  a 
year  old  when  my  father  made  his  first  religious  visit 
to  America,  and  he  was  gone  five  years."  His  mother 
remained  alone  in  a  cottage  in  Dorsetshire  with  her 
young  child,  and,  though  frail  in  health,  made  occa- 
sional religious  journeys  ;  for  she  too  was  a  minister 
amons:  Friends.  Forster  used  to  tell  of  an  incident 
of  his  childhood.     He  was  travelling  in  a  coach  in  the 


262  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

charge  of  his  nurse  when  a  benevolent  old  gentleman 
began  to  talk  to  him.  "  Where  is  your  papa,  my 
dear  ?  "  said  his  fellow-passenger.  "  Papa  is  preaching 
in  America,"  was  the  reply.  "  And  where  is  your 
mamma  ?  "  continued  the  gentleman.  "  Mamma  is 
preaching  in  Ireland,"  was  the  answer  which  the 
astonished  stranger  received.  • 

It  will  readily  be  seen  how  strong  were  the  influ- 
ences favourable  to  Quakerism  in  his  youth,  and  how 
closely  he  was  bound  to  that  religious  body  in  heart 
and  mind.  It  was  not  from  them  that  opposition 
came  to  his  education  measure,  but  from  the  class 
that  Matthew  Arnold  called  "  Political  Dissenters." 
Very  serious  to  Forster  was  this  opposition.  He  had 
ambition,  a  passion  which,  as  Burke  has  said,  is  the 
instinct  of  all  great  souls,  indeed  a  necessary  quali- 
fication for  a  statesman.  His  rise  in  the  House  of 
Commons  had  been  so  rapid  that  his  reaching  the 
leadership  had  seemed  altogether  a  possibility.  Now 
arose  a  cry  against  him  which  could  not  be  disre- 
garded. He  went  on,  however,  without  faltering,  and 
his  bill  became  a  law.  For  several  years  there  was 
no  relaxing  of  the  opposition.  In  1872,  Lord  Salis- 
bury spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"  Nothing  is  more  surprising  to  me  than  the  plea  on  which 
the  present  outcry  is  made  against  the  Church  of  England.  I 
could  not  believe  that  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  charge 
against  the  Church  of  England  should  be  that  churchmen, 
and  especially  the  clergy,  had  educated  the  people.  If  I 
were  to  fix  on  one  circumstance  more  than  another  which 
redounded  to  the  honour  of  churchmen  it  is  that  they  should 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  263 

fulfil  this  noble  office,  and,  next  to  being  *  Stewards  of  Divine 
Mysteries,'  I  should  think  the  greatest  distinction  of  the  clergy- 
is  the  admirable  manner  in  which  they  have  devoted  their 
lives  and  their  fortunes  to  this  first  of  national  objects.  I 
have  due  and  great  respect  for  the  Non-Conformist  body.  If 
I  could  have  found  that,  in  the  Education  Act,  any  injustice 
had  been  done  to  the  Non-Conformists,  I  should  have  voted 
with  them." 

I  quote  this  because  it  bears  on  the  opposition 
the  Education  Act  had,  in  its  first  years,  to  meet 
with.  In  the  year  1874  the  Gladstone  Government 
came  to  an  end.  In  the  next  year  (1875)  Mr.  Glad- 
stone by  reason  of  his  then  advanced  age  retired  from 
the  leadership  of  his  party.  He  felt  admonished,  he 
said,  by  declining  strength,  to  betake  himself  some- 
what to  seclusion  and  study.  (A  pretty  lively  hermit 
he  was,  we  must  all  admit ! )  A  successor  had,  how- 
ever, to  be  chosen.  Forster's  name  was  the  only  one 
mentioned  in  opposition  to  Lord  Hartington;  but 
for  the  education  matter  the  contest  would  have 
been  close.  The  result  seemed  the  loss  to  Mr. 
Forster  of  the  chief  place,  when  next  there  was  a 
change  of  government,  but  as  Gladstone  very  soon 
resumed,  practically,  the  leadership.  Lord  Harting- 
ton's  position  became  altogether  nominal. 

As  proof  of  what  I  have  stated  as  to  the  high 
position  Forster  had  reached  in  the  country,  I  may 
cite  here  a  passage  from  the  diary  of  the  late  Dr. 
Norman  Macleod  of  the  date  of  1872.  "At  Bal- 
moral I  met  Forster,  the  Cabinet  Minister.  He,  and 
Helps  and  I,  had  great  arguments  on  theological  sub- 


264  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

jects  till  very  late.  I  never  was  more  impressed  by 
any  man  as  deep,  independent,  thoroughly  honest,  and 
sincere.  I  conceived  a  great  love  for  him.  I  never  met 
a  statesman  whom  for  high-minded  honesty  and  justice 
I  would  sooner  follow.  He  will  be  Premier  some  day." 
In  visits  to  England  of  1869  and  1870,  it  was  a 
peculiar  satisfaction  to  me  to  see  my  friend  at  last 
in  his  true  position  as  a  member  of  the  Government. 
At  his  table  in  London  there  was  naturally  talk  of 
the  heated  feelins^  which  remained  in  America  ^row- 
ing  out  of  the  Alabajua  matter.  I  could  report  the 
universal  opinion  with  us  that  the  position  of  Eng- 
land was  one  of  peril  so  long  as  the  dispute  re- 
mained unsettled  —  that  while  the  Alabama  precedent 
remained,  our  Government  could  not  prevent  the 
going  out  of  privateers  in  case  of  England  being  at 
war  with  a  Continental  power.  I  remember  a  singu- 
lar offhand  reply  of  Forster's  —  hardly  a  serious  one 
—  that  this  risk  could  be  covered  by  insurance,  and 
that  the  cost  to  England  would  not  be  greater  than 
the  loss  which  had  been  caused  by  the  Overend-Gur- 
ney  failure.  All  the  same,  no  man  in  England  worked 
harder  than  Forster  did  to  bring  about  the  great  set- 
tlement. Charles  Sumner  by  his  elaborate,  but  un- 
wise, speech  demanding  that  the  indirect  claims 
should  be  presented  at  Geneva,  among  them  a  claim 
for  an  enormous  sum  for  Ensfland's  having  acknow- 
ledged  the  South  as  belligerents,  caused  intense  ex- 
citement and  indignation,  making  it  doubtful  whether 
the  English  Government  could  proceed  with  the  arbi- 


WILLIAM  EDWARD   FORSTER  265 

tration.  Forster  made  a  very  careful  speech  in  reply 
to  Sumner,  whom  he  knew  personally,  and  had  regard 
for.  Then  as  a  member  of  the  Cabinet  he  laboured 
with  the  utmost  ardour  to  prevent  the  abandonment 
of  the  arbitration.  "  As  toward  America,"  as  has  been 
well  said,  "his  record  was  clear,  for  no  American 
could  doubt  his  sympathy  with  the  party  and  the 
Government  which  had  triumphed  in  the  war.  On 
the  other  hand  his  English  self-respect  was  clear." 
Gladstone,  to  his  great  honour,  stood  firm,  and  the 
Court  of  Arbitration  met.  It  is  proper  to  add  that 
at  this  supreme  crisis  in  the  history  of  the  two  coun- 
tries. Grant  and  Fish  displayed  conspicuous  wisdom. 
The  English  Cabinet  awaited  news  of  the  first  pro- 
ceedings at  Geneva  with  anxiety,  —  Forster  with 
breathless  interest.  At  length  the  tidings  came:  '"The 
indirect  claims  ruled  out."  This  was  for  Forster  one 
of  the  happiest  moments  of  his  political  life. 

In  1874,  when  the  Gladstone  Government  went 
out,  Mr.  Forster  took  advantage  of  his  leisure  to  pay 
a  visit  to  America.  A  chief  object  was  to  visit  the 
ofrave  of  his  father,  who  had  died  in  Tennessee  when 
on  a  religious  visit  some  twenty  years  before.  Fors- 
ter's  companion  was  his  cousin.  Sir  Fowell  Buxton, 
grandson  of  the  first  Sir  Fowell,  now^  the  governor  of 
South  Australia.  I  cannot  but  record  here  that  my 
wife,  who  saw  Mr.  Forster  then  for  the  first  time,  had 
an  instant  sense  of  his  power,  while  she  saw  very 
plainly  the  tender  and  loving  traits  there  were  in  him. 

Writing  to  an  English  relative,  my  wife  said :  — 


266  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

"  Mr.  Forster  strikes  me  as  a  man  a  head  and  shoulders, 
morally  and  intellectually,  above  other  men.  His  individu- 
ality is  singularly  strong,  and  you  are  instantly  at  rest  with 
him  because  he  is  so  true  and  single-hearted.  He  impresses 
you  immensely  as  a  man  of  character,  a  man  entirely  himself, 
not  influenced  by  those  around  him ;  but  he  has  deep  feeling 
and  refinement,  and  a  shrinking  from  display  of  all  kinds. 

"  He  has  met  many  of  our  political  men  while  in  this  coun- 
try ;  some,  I  hope,  have  felt,  from  personal  intercourse  with 
him,  how  grand  and  great  the  office  of  a  statesman  is  when 
the  heart  is  pure  and  true  and  duty-loving.  There  is  a  beau- 
tiful sermon  of  Maurice's,  which  I  remember  reading  years 
ago,  in  which  he  says  how  different  rulers  and  those  in  au- 
thority would  be  if  they  but  realized  at  all  that  it  was  God 
%vho  was  allowing  them  to  help  Him  to  govern  the  world." 

Every  one  who  saw  him  was  impressed  by  him.  I 
remember  a  dinner  at  i\Ir.  John  Welsh's,  a  party  of 
sixteen,  which  lasted  for  four  hours  and  was  extremely 
pleasant.  Mr.  Welsh  placed  Mr.  Forster  at  the  mid- 
dle of  the  table  on  one  side,  Sir  Fowell  Buxton  at  the 
middle  on  the  other,  himself  and  Mr.  William  Welsh 
were  at  the  two  ends.  The  talk  was  general.  Men 
of  distinction  were  present.  I  mention  only  the  names 
of  Judge  Sharswood  and  Morton  McMichael.  Mr. 
Forster  said  to  the  company  that  his  wife  in  a  late 
letter  had  asked  the  cause  of  the  political  change  here 
as  shown  by  the  elections  then  just  over.  Many  re- 
plies and  explanations  were  given.  At  the  end  Fors- 
ter said  :  "  Gentlemen,  this  is  all  extremely  interesting, 
but  what  am  I  to  write  to  my  wife  ?  "  Forster  enjoyed 
the  occasion  much.  He  said  to  me  afterward  Judge 
Sharswood  was  the  strongest  man  of  all  that  company. 


WILLIAM  EDWARD   FORSTER  267 

Forster  made  two  speeches  in  America,  one  here  in 
Philadelphia  at  the  celebration  of  the  fiftieth  anniver- 
sary of  the  founding  of  the  Historical  Society,  the 
other  before  the  Union  League  of  New  York.  The 
burden  and  drift  of  each  was  a  plea  for  the  essential 
union  and  co-working  of  English-speaking  men.  This 
I  may  say  was  the  dream  and  desire  of  his  whole  po- 
litical life.  My  own  sight  of  my  friend  ended  with 
his  visit  here  of  1874.  I  was  not  in  England  between 
1874  and  1886.  Two  of  my  children  received  kind- 
ness from  him  in  London  and  were  greatly  impressed 
by  him.  He  introduced  my  eldest  daughter  and  a 
friend  to  the  Ladies'  Gallery  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. As  they  followed  him  up  the  narrow  staircase 
my  daughter  said  she  felt  as  if  she  was  being  con- 
ducted by  a  friendly  lion.  His  tall  figure  had  by  this 
time  become  broad,  and  he  was,  perhaps,  somewhat 
shaggy,  but  there  was  that  in  him  always  that  denoted 
distinction.  My  eldest  son,  then  nineteen,  was  much 
touched  by  the  gracious  kindness  of  his  manner  toward 
him ;  he  cherishes  this  as  among  his  best  recollec- 
tions. In  early  life  Forster  was  long-limbed  and 
slim,  and  seemed  loosely  knit  together,  his  look  of  a 
half-humorous  sternness.  Mrs.  Forster  once  asked 
me  if  I  did  not  think  he  looked  like  an  American. 
Though  born  in  the  South  of  England,  and  resident 
there  through  all  his  youth,  he  had  the  look  of  York- 
shire ;  it  used  to  be  said  of  him  that  he  was  a  very 
"  stage  Yorkshireman." 

Of  the  years  that  followed   1875,  I  need  not  speak 


268  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

at  length.  He  was  not  wholly  of  accord  with  Glad- 
stone in  regard  to  the  Bulgarian  question.  He  trav- 
elled through  Servia,  Bulgaria,  and  Turkey,  to  see 
with  his  own  eyes  the  state  of  things  there.  He  felt 
the  utmost  horror  of  Turkish  oppression  and  misrule, 
but  could  hardly  give  assent  to  the  "  bag  and  bag- 
gage "  policy  until  he  saw  what  was  to  take  its  place. 
He  was  especially  cautious  as  a  statesman  —  wise  in 
judgment  —  and  was  misunderstood,  because  of  his 
determination  to  hear  both  sides,  by  men  of  extreme 
opinions.  His  training  as  a  man  of  affairs  had  taught 
him  this  wisdom.  His  constituents,  again  and  again, 
complained  that  he  was  not  true  to  his  party.  Caucus 
rule,  a  system  which  had  been  begun  at  Birmingham, 
sought  to  establish  itself  at  Bradford.  Forster  made 
strenuous  resistance  to  this  from  the  first ;  he  stood 
for  the  absolute  independence  of  a  member  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  fought  against  the  rule  of  wire-pullers, 
which  he  saw  would  result  from  caucus  supremacy. 
The  very  moderation  of  his  position  in  1877  and  1878 
made  his  influence  the  greater  in  opposing  Disraeli's 
policy  of  that  period,  which  threatened  to  involve 
England  in  war  with  Russia  in  behalf  of  Turkey. 

In  1880  came  the  overthrow  of  Lord  Beaconsfield's 
Ministry  and  the  accession  of  Gladstone.  Forster,  it 
was  generally  thought,  would  be  Secretary  for  the 
Colonies.  But  the  Parnell  agitation  in  Ireland  was 
then  at  its  height,  and  a  statesman  of  the  first  class 
was  needed  for  the  Chief  Secretaryship  —  the  Chief 
Secretary  being  practically  the  chief  ruler.     Forster 


IVILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  269 

took  the  place  because,  as  he  said,  he  thought  it  would 
have  been  his  father's  wish  that  he  should  do  so. 
Then  followed  two  years  of  storm,  and  anxiety,  and 
peril,  on  which  I  need  not  now  dwell.  Mrs.  Forster 
said,  in  a  letter  to  me  from  the  Chief  Secretary's 
Lodfre,  it  was  hard  there  should  be  all  this  crime  and 
outrage  to  contend  with  when  a  Goyernment  was  in 
power  eyery  member  of  which  was  pledged  to  do  all 
that  possibly  could  be  done  for  Ireland.  Again  and 
again  assassins  lay  in  wait  for  Forster,  their  plans  only 
failing  by  strange  accident.  His  courage  neyer  for- 
sook him.  In  the  yery  height  of  the  agitation  he 
made  a  journey  to  the  Tipperary  region,  County  Clare, 
—  the  most  disturbed  district,  —  w^ithout  guard  of  mil- 
itary and  scarcely  of  police.  He  addressed  the  people 
several  times  and  no  harm  came  to  him.  In  a  speech 
he  made  to  his  Bradford  constituents  soon  afterward, 
he  spoke  of  his  journey  and  of  his  safety  in  it.  His 
sense  of  humour  would  not,  however,  allow  of  his  fail- 
ing to  tell  them  of  resolutions  which  had  been  passed 
by  the  women's  branch  of  the  National  League  at  a 
place  not  far  from  Tipperary.  These  resolutions  were 
in  stern  condemnation  of  the  Tipperary  Nationalists, 
that  they  had  allowed  the  opportunity  to  pass  of  deal- 
ing with  the  Chief  Secretary  as  he  deserved,  adding 
that  if  the  "  old  gorilla  "  would  come  their  way  they 
would  show  him  ! 

Gladstone's  policy  of  surrender  to  Parnell,  which 
began  with  the  Kilmainham  Treaty  of  1882,  Forster 
was  wholly  unable  to  acquiesce   in  ;  he   retired  from 


270  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

office  with  great  dignity,  accepting  calmly  isolation, 
and  what  to  many  seemed  the  closing  of  his  political 
career.  No  one  of  his  colleagues  accompanied  him. 
Strange  to  say  Chamberlain,  afterward  to  be  so  emi- 
nent in  opposing  Gladstone's  Irish  policy,  was  a 
leader  who  was  behind  Gladstone  in  refusing  to  sup- 
port Forster.  In  less  than  three  years  Gladstone's 
complete  surrender  was  made,  and  then  Bright, 
Chamberlain,  Lord  Hartington,  Goschen,  the  Duke  of 
Argyll,  Lord  Selborne,  nearly  all  the  great  chiefs  of 
the  Liberal  party,  were  by  the  side  of  Forster,  being 
absolutely  one  in  mind  with  him  in  opposition  to 
Gladstone.  Bright  wrote  to  Gladstone  that  if  any 
one  else  had  proposed  the  Home  Rule  scheme  there 
would  not  have  been  twenty  men  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  apart  from  the  Irish  members,  to  support 
it.  I  dwell  on  this  Irish  matter  to  illustrate  the 
wisdom  which  I  have  maintained  was  Forster's  char- 
acteristic. He  was  before  all  men  in  noting  the 
limitations  of  Gladstone  —  "a  bewitching,  a  fasci- 
nating personality,"  to  use  Matthew  Arnold's  words, 
"  but  a  dangerous  minister." 

The  subject  of  Imperial  Federation,  as  yet  but  a 
shadowy  beginning,  occupied  much  of  Forster's  atten- 
tion during  the  period  of  his  retirement  from  office. 
South  Africa  and  Egypt  were  also  matters  of  close 
study  to  him.  The  vacillating  policy  of  the  Govern- 
ment in  regard  to  Egypt  he  strongly  condemned  in 
the  beginning  of  the  session  of  1884.  His  anxiety  in 
regard  to  Gordon  was  then  very  great;  he  was  mad- 


WILL/AM  EDWARD  FORSTER  2/1 

dened  by  the  delay  of  the  Government  in  despatching 
an  expedition  for  his  rescue.  Finally  he  delivered 
himself  in  the  House  of  Commons  as  follows.  Speak- 
ing of  the  danger  of  Gordon's  position,  he  said :  "  I 
believe  every  one  but  the  Prime  Minister  is  already 
convinced  of  that  danger,  and  I  attribute  his  not  being 
convinced  to  his  wonderful  power  of  persuasion.  He 
can  persuade  most  people  of  most  things,  and,  above 
all,  he  can  persuade  himself  of  almost  anything."  The 
words  made  a  profound  impression,  although  party 
leaders  at  the  time  condemned  them. 

I  may  venture  to  add  the  following  as  almost  a 
personal  confirmation  of  this  charge  of  Forster  s  that 
the  delay  of  the  starting  of  the  Nile  expedition  was 
due  to  Gladstone.  My  son,  then  nineteen,  at  the  end 
of  June,  1884,  sat  alongside  Sir  Redvers  Buller  at 
dinner  in  an  English  country  house.  Sir  Redvers 
Buller  was  next  to  Lord  Wolseley,  in  command  of  the 
expedition.  He  said,  "  I  have  always  been  a  Liberal, 
but  I  cannot,  for  the  life  of  me,  understand  why  the 
Government  delays  ordering  the  expedition  to  start." 
Two  months  were  yet  to  pass.  The  starting  was  in 
September.     Alas  !  for  the  result. 

The  Queen,  in  writing  to  Gordon's  sister  when  the 
news  of  his  death  came,  said,  "  That  the  promises  of 
support  were  not  fulfilled,  which  I  so  frequently  and 
so  constantly  pressed  on  those  who  asked  him  to  go 
—  is  to  me  grief  inexpressible,  indeed,  it  has  made  me 
ill."  These  words  seem  to  me  to  imply  censure  for 
inexcusable  delay. 


2/2  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

But  almost  as  I  write  my  eye  falls  on  a  copy  of  the 
London  Times  in  which  I  read  that  at  a  dinner  given 
in  Edinburgh  to  Lord  Wolseley,  the  Earl  of  Wemyss, 
who  presided,  said  that  Lord  Wolseley  dined  with 
him  shortly  before  starting  on  the  Nile  expedition. 
Lord  Wolseley  said  to  the  lady  next  to  him  at  that 
dinner,  "What  would  I  not  give  for  those  three 
months  when  Gladstone  was  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind."  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  Gladstone  gave 
reluctant  consent  to  the  sending  out  of  Gordon ;  he 
cluno-,  too,  to  the  belief  that,  if  he  had  to  abandon 
Khartoum,  he  could  escape  to  the  southward. 

I  cannot  but  add,  as  some  relief  to  the  painful  story 
on  which  I  have  been  dwelling,  the  following,  which 
was  told  me  by  an  eminent  London  artist,  Edward 
Clifford.  Gordon  sat  to  Clifford  for  his  portrait  just 
before  starting  for  Khartoum.  He  said  to  Clifford  he 
had  one  objection  to  the  expedition  on  which  the 
Government  was  sending  him,  viz.:  that  if  he  suc- 
ceeded, they  would  be  giving  him  one  of  their 
"  beastly  titles." 

To  return  to  Mr.  Gladstone.  Forster  was  as  sensi- 
ble as  any  man  of  his  great  qualities,  but,  as  I  have 
said,  he  noted  very  early  certain  intellectual  defi- 
ciencies. When  he  became  associated  with  him  as  a 
ministerial  colleague,  and  especially  when  he  was  under 
him  as  his  chief,  his  feeling  for  him  was  of  affec- 
tion, as  well  as  respect  and  admiration.  But  the  trial 
to  Forster  was  great  when  suddenly  his  chief  refused 
longer    to    support   him.      He    could    but    retire   and 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  273 

await,  but  with  a  heavy  heart,  what  the  future  would 
bring.  This  was  in  1882.  In  1886  I  chanced  to  hear 
Dean  Burgon  say  to  Sir  Thomas  Acland,  referring  to 
Gladstone,  that  it  was  "  the  great  moral  fall  of  the  age." 
The  dean  was  a  man  of  learning  and  ability,  but 
unrestrained  in  speech ;  Sir  Thomas  was  Gladstone's 
lifelong  friend ;  he  smiled  at  the  vehemence  of  the 
dean.  It  was  a  parting  shot  of  the  sturdy  ecclesiastic. 
I  visited  Mrs.  Forster  soon  afterward  at  Fox  Ghyll, 
and  mentioning  to  her  the  dean's  remark,  she  said  in 
her  gentle  way,  "  Perhaps  a  better  word  would  be  a 
moral  deterioration^  Then  she  added,  holding  her 
hand  before  her,  "  Mr.  Gladstone  when  he  decides 
on  a  view  or  opinion  or  course  of  conduct  will  listen 
to  no  contrary  views  or  arguments,  he  will  see  only 
the  line  he  has  determined  to  take." 

I  venture  to  think  that  the  late  Bonamy  Price,  a 
distinguished  Oxford  professor,  stated  with  wonder- 
ful clearness  Gladstone's  chief  characteristic :  "  Glad- 
stone sees  every  side  of  the  truth,  but  he  only  sees 
one  side  at  once.  You  will  find  him  fervent  on  one 
side ;  a  little  time  goes  by,  and  that  whole  point 
of  view  has  passed  away  from  him ;  he  has  forgotten 
that  he  ever  held  it ;  with  equal  fervour  and  perfect 
sincerity,  he  urges  a  quite  different  side.  He  never 
balances  the  two  together.  I  call  that  a  dangerous 
faculty." 

At  the  end  of  December,  1885,  when  William 
Forster  was  on  what  proved  to  be  his  death-bed, 
a  rumour  reached  Mr.  Gladstone  that  he  might  not 


274  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

be  unfavourable  to  the  Home  Rule  scheme  which 
was  about  to  be  brought  forward.  A  letter  came 
to  him  from  Mr.  Gladstone,  expressing  a  hope  that 
this  report  had  foundation.  Forster  dictated  a  re- 
ply, acknowledging  the  kind  tone  of  Mr.  Gladstone's 
letter,  adding,  however,  this  distinct  utterance :  — 

"  This  Irish  matter  is  indeed  most  full  of  difificul- 
ties,  and  I  wish  to  say  that  I  have  looked  at  Home 
Rule  with  a  most  earnest  endeavour  to  form  an 
impartial  judgment.  I  have  employed  hours,  I  may 
say  days,  in  overhauling  my  previous  views,  but  I 
cannot  come  to  any  other  conclusion  than  the  one 
I  gave  in  a  late-published  letter."  In  this  letter 
he  had  stated,  explicitly,  that  he  believed  a  Parlia- 
ment in  Dublin  would  be  fraught  with  danger  to 
both  England  and   Ireland. 

In  Mrs.  Forster's  very  touching  account  of  her 
husband's  last  illness,  there  is  a  record  of  a  fortnight 
later  date  than  that  of  the  letter  to  Gladstone,  which 
is  as  follows :  — 

^^ January  15,  1886.  —  This  afternoon  I  read  him  a  letter 
I  had  had  from  Mr.  Tuke,  in  which  he  said  that  he  thought 
Mr.  Forster  would  like  to  know  that  in  the  Friends'  '  Meet- 
ing for  Sufferings'  his  recovery  had  been  earnestly  prayed 
for.  My  beloved  husband  was  greatly  moved.  '  The  Church 
of  my  fathers  has  not  forgotten  me !  '  he  said,  bursting  into 
tears." 

William  Edward  Forster  died  on  the  5th  of  April, 
1886.  His  death  made  a  profound  impression.  At 
the  suggestion  of   the   Times,  a  funeral    service  was 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  275 

held  in  Westminster  Abbey,  which  was  attended  by 
a  vast  throng  of  his  old  political  associates  and 
friends,  by  representatives  of  the  Colonies,  and  by 
the  general  public.  The  next  day,  April  loth,  there 
was  the  simple  Quaker  funeral  on  the  hillside  bury- 
ing-ground  at  Burley,  near  the  home  he  had  loved 
so  well.  His  biographer  says  of  those  who  stood 
around  on  that  wild  winter's  day,  that  they  wit- 
nessed "  the  last  farewell  to  the  friend  and  neigh- 
bour, who  had  risen  high  in  the  councils  of  the 
State,  but  whose  heart  had  remained  unaffected  by 
all  the  changes  of  fortune ;  who  had  never  varied 
in  his  affection  for  the  friends  of  his  youth,  or  in 
his  bearing  toward  the  humblest  of  those  among 
whom  his  lot  was  cast;  whose  temper  had  not  been 
soured  by  trials,  nor  his  sympathies  narrowed  by 
the  growth  of  years ;  whose  spirit  had  remained 
young  whilst  his  head  grew  grey;  and  the  horizon 
of  whose  mental  vision  had  seemed  ever  to  grow 
wider  and  brighter  as  he  drew  nearer  to  the  end 
of  life." 

William  Forster  was  childless,  and  was  the  last  of 
his  race.  In  1859  he  adopted  the  four  orphan  chil- 
dren of  his  brother-in-law,  William  Arnold ;  their 
mother  had  died  in  the  Punjaub,  their  father  at 
Gibraltar,  on  his  way  to  England.  Forster  at  once 
took  upon  him  the  whole  charge  of  these  children  ; 
they  grew  up  to  be,  to  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Forster,  as 
if  they  had  been  of  their  own  blood.  Never  had  a 
good  action  received  an  ampler  reward,  and  never  was 


2/6  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

there  a  fuller  return  of  love  and  gratitude.  One  of 
these  adopted  sons,  Mr.  Oakley  Arnold-Forster  is  a 
member  of  Parliament  of  distinction  and  promise,  and 
a  writer  of  ability.  One  of  the  daughters  is  married 
to  a  nephew  of  Aubrey  de  Vere.  This  lady,  then 
Miss  Florence  Arnold-Forster,  tells  in  her  journal  of 
Mr.  Forster's  energy  and  enthusiasm  as  a  traveller, 
his  eagerness  to  obtain  information.     She  says :  — 

"  Whether  it  was  with  an  enthusiastic  Czech  professor  at 
Prague,  or  with  a  cultivated  Austrian  merchant  returning  to 
his  home  in  the  Bukowina,  or  a  gentlemanly  whist-playing 
Pole  at  some  German  watering-place,  or  a  party  of  Russian 
volunteers  going  to  help  the  Servians,  or  a  Hungarian  Honved 
officer,  or  a  government  official  in  a  Roumanian  railway  car- 
riage, or  a  shrewd  English  man  of  business  in  the  fair  at  Nijni 
Novgorod,  or  some  high  diplomatic  magnate  at  Constanti- 
nople or  Vienna,  or  an  active  politician  and  deputy  at  Berlin, 
Pesth,  or  Athens  —  wherever  or  with  whomsoever  it  might 
be,  my  father  seemed  always  to  have  the  faculty  of  getting 
straight  on  to  some  topic  that  thoroughly  interested  both  him- 
self and  the  man  he  was  talking  to,  if  it  was  only  for  a  five 
minutes'  conversation." 

In  what  I  have  written  in  regard  to  William  Ed- 
ward Forster  I  have  had  chiefly  in  mind  the  example 
which  his  career  affords  for  instruction  here.  The 
fact  that  he  always  spoke  of  himself  as  a  politician 
shows  the  meaning  which  the  term  bears  in  England 
in  contrast  with  the  lower  meaning  which  attaches 
to  it  in  this  country.  With  us  it  has  become  almost 
a  term  of  reproach.  But  no  words  can  be  better  than 
his  own  to  illustrate  this  contrast.     In   1876  he  was 


WILLIAM  EDWARD  FORSTER  277 

chosen  Lord  Rector  of  the  University  of  Aberdeen. 
In  the  address  he  made  there,  he  thus  summed  up  the 
quahfications  of  the  true  politician  :  — 

"  There  remain  these  two  absokite  necessities  —  the  know- 
ledge, the  quick  perception,  of  right  and  wrong ;  and  the 
desire  to  do  right.  It  is  not  for  me  to  turn  this  address  into 
a  sermon,  or  to  attempt  to  preach  the  lessons  which  many  a 
man  here  has  learned  in  his  Highland  home  from  the  Bible 
read  by  the  father  or  mother ;  but  remember  this,  that  the 
politician  you  have  so  kindly  heard  to-day  declares  that,  of 
all  possible  occupations,  politics  is  the  most  unprofitable,  the 
least  worth  following,  if  for  any  personal,  or  still  more  tempting 
party  object  its  true  aim  be  forgotten  ;  and  that  true  aim  is 
this  —  the  fulfilment  by  our  country  of  her  duty,  by  which 
fulfilment,  and  by  which  alone,  can  be  secured  her  power 
and  her  superiority  and  the  well-being  of  her  sons." 


ENGLAND  AND  THE  HOUSE  OF  COM- 
MONS IN  THE  CLOSING  DAYS  OF  THE 
AMERICAN    CIVIL    WAR 


ENGLAND  AND  THE  HOUSE  OF  COM- 
MONS IN  THE  CLOSING  DAYS  OF  THE 
AMERICAN   CIVIL   WAR 

I  SAILED  from  New  York  for  Liverpool  on  the 
Australasian  on  the  2 2d  of  February,  1865.  Our 
voyage  was  prosperous,  and  on  the  tenth  day  we 
were  in  sight  of  land.  Some  hours  later  we  were 
following  the  line  of  the  Irish  coast,  looking  with 
keen  interest  on  the  green,  treeless  headlands.  The 
sea  was  calm  and  the  sun  was  bright,  and  there  was 
the  peculiar  gladness  in  one's  heart  which  comes 
from  the  thought  of  the  safe  passage  over  the  great 
waters.  I  know  few  sights  which  are  more  exhila- 
rating, and  of  which  the  recollection  is  more  vivid, 
than  that  of  the  Irish  coast  after  a  voyage  from 
America.  But  now  we  had  the  further  pleasure  of 
being  the  bearers  of  news  of  victory.  It  was  the 
year  before  the  laying  01  the  Atlantic  cable. 

When  we  were  perhaps  a  hundred  miles  from  the 
entrance  to  the  harbour  of  Queenstown,  a  small 
steamer  was  seen  to  put  out  from  the  shore  and 
head  toward  us.  Soon  a  tin  box  with  a  long  float 
of  wood  was  brought  on  deck,  and,  when  the  little 
steamer  was  near,  the  box  or  canister,  with  its  long 
pole    attached,  was    thrown    into    the   sea.     We   saw 

281 


282  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

the  little  steamer  hook  it  up,  and  then  turn  and 
make  for  the  land.  We  knew  that  the  box  con- 
tained despatches  with  the  latest  war  news,  and 
that  in  an  hour  London  and  Liverpool  and  all  of 
Europe  would  know  of  the  fall  of  Charleston. 

I  landed  in  Liverpool  on  March  4  —  the  day 
of  Mr.  Lincoln's  second  inauguration.  I  had  occa- 
sion to  remain  there  for  a  few  days,  and  was  glad 
of  the  opportunity  of  conferring  with  the  small 
group  of  persons  who,  in  that  city,  had  been  in 
sympathy  with  the  North  from  the  beginning  of  the 
war.  Mr.  Dudley,  our  consul,  lived  chiefly  in  the 
society  of  this  handful  of  persons.  He  could  look 
for  little  other  companionship  as  opinion  then  was. 
Perhaps  his  high-tariff  principles  helped  to  make 
the  Liverpool  merchants  shy  of  him.  But  hardly 
anywhere  in  England  was  there  stronger  desire  for 
the  success  of  the  South  than  in  that  busy  city 
w^hich  owed  so  much  of  its  growth  and  prosperity 
to  American  cotton.  Mr.  Dudley  told  me  of  the 
hard  life  he  had  led  there  in  the  watch  he  had  to 
keep  over  the  efforts  of  the  Confederates  to  get 
out  their  cruisers.  He  said  he  had  also  to  keep  up 
the  hopes  of  the  friends  of  the  North  as  well  as  he 
could,  during  the  long  period  of  our  adverse  for- 
tune. Mr.  Bright,  he  said,  had  several  times  come 
to  him  with  a  feeling  almost  of  despair.  He  spoke 
of  the  mass  of  testimony  he  had  sent  to  Mr.  Adams 
in  London  to  support  the  representation  the  latter 
had  constantly  to  make  to  Lord  John  Russell,  then 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  iSbj  283 

Foreign  Secretary,  in  regard  to  the  action  of  Con- 
federate agents  in  Liverpool  in  violation  of  inter- 
national law.  Mr.  Dudley's  whole  soul  was  enlisted 
in  the  effort  to  resist  these  Confederate  schemes ; 
and  his  skill  and  experience  as  a  lawyer  made  him 
an  efficient  representative  of  our  Government  in  that 
period  of  its  trial. 

I  remember  one  dinner-table  experience  in  Liver- 
pool, when  I  was  in  an  atmosphere  entirely  hostile 
to  the  cause  of  the  North.  Our  host  and  all  the 
guests  but  myself  were  in  sympathy  with  the  South. 
Our  host,  I  should  say,  was  an  old   friend  of  mine, 

—  an  aafreeable  and  cultivated  man.  The  talk  at  the 
beo-inning  was  chiefly  in  regard  to  the  war.  Our  host 
was  careful  to  ground  his  opposition  to  it  on  what 
he  called  its  fratricidal  character.  He  said  the  spec- 
tacle in  this  age  of   the  world  was  a  sad    one   truly 

—  the  bloody  strife  of  men  of  the  same  brotherhood ; 
that  all  war  seemed  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the 
present  day.  He  hoped  we  would  soon  see  our 
way  to  the  settling  of  our  contest  and  letting  the 
South  go.  The  others  at  the  table  supported  this 
advocacy  of  peace,  and  especially  a  legal  gentleman 
who  urofed  it  with  sfreat  zeal  and  earnestness.  Talk 
took  another  direction;  and,  some  little  time  having 
passed,  I  referred  to  the  Trent  matter,  and  asked 
my  legal  friend  whether  he  really  thought  there 
would  have  been  war  if  the  United  States  had  re- 
fused to  deliver  up  Mason  and  Slidell.  He  replied 
instantly  that  England  would   have  given    her  "  last 


284  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

man  and  her  last  shilling"  to  compel  the  surrender 
of  the  envoys.  The  very  mention  of  the  matter 
seemed  to  set  his  soul  on  fire.  "  Oh,"  I  said,  "  then 
3^ou  think  it  would  be  the  duty  of  a  nation  to  carry 
on  a  contest  at  any  sacrifice  of  life  because  two 
men,  not  its  own  citizens,  had  been  taken  from  one 
of  its  mail  steamers,  but  that  it  is  not  right  for  peo- 
ple to  resist  by  force  of  arms  the  dismemberment 
of  their  country  —  the  blotting  out  of  their  national 
existence."  Our  host  laughed,  and  upbraided  his 
legal  guest  at  having  so  seriously  damaged  himself 
and  the  common  cause  by  his  unfortunate  admission. 

I  reached  London  within  a  week  from  the  time  of 
my  landing.  I  soon  saw  my  friend,  then  of  many 
years,  William  Edward  Forster,  and  had  a  prolonged 
conversation  with  him  in  regard  to  our  war.  He  had 
been  our  strenuous  defender  through  the  whole  of  it, 
and  had  greatly  aided  our  minister,  Mr.  Adams,  in  the 
heavy  work  which  had  been  upon  him  from  the  mo- 
ment of  his  reaching  London. 

I  was  with  Mr.  Forster  the  day  before  he  w^as  to 
speak  on  the  general  subject  of  the  relations  of  Eng- 
land with  America.  The  particular  occasion  was  this. 
Lord  Derby,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  had  called  upon 
the  Government  to  see  to  it  that  Canada  was  provided 
with  adequate  defences  as  against  attack  from  the 
United  States.  He  had  urged  that  hostility  to  Eng- 
land was  deep-seated  in  America,  and  that,  as  the  war 
was  probably  drawing  to  a  close,  there  was  imminent 
danger  that  the  forces  which  would  then  be  free  to 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  iSbs  285 

act  elsewhere  would  be  turned  against  Canada.  The 
Times  had  taken  up  this  foolish  cry,  and  at  the 
moment  the  excitement  which  had  been  caused  was 
sufficient  to  affect  the  funds.  I  could,  of  course,  tell 
Mr.  Forster  how  absurd  such  a  suggestion  was,  that 
the  one  desire  of  the  people  of  the  North  was  for  an 
honourable  peace ;  that  such  a  peace  would  be  wel- 
comed with  passionate  joy,  and  once  it  was  secured 
armies  would  disband.  Mr.  Forster  fully  understood 
this,  and  was  eager  to  reply  to  Lord  Derby  and  the 
Times.  The  opportunity  offered  in  a  debate  which 
was  appointed  for  March  13  on  the  Canadian  De- 
fences Bill.  My  friend  kindly  arranged  for  my  being 
present  at  that  debate,  and  for  my  having  a  seat  upon 
what  is  called  the  floor  of  the  house.  I  went  in  with 
him  at  four  o'clock,  and  was  taken  to  a  bench  at  the 
end  of  the  house,  immediately  fronting  the  Speaker. 
There  were  two  benches  there  precisely  alike. 

I  may  mention  here  a  slight  incident  showing  the 
curious  care  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  magnify 
the  office  of  the  Speaker  as  a  mode  of  maintaining 
their  own  dignity.  In  one  of  the  pauses  of  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  evening  a  member,  with  whom  I  had 
slight  acquaintance,  very  civilly  came  to  shake  hands 
with  me.  He  was  behind  me  and  I  turned  half  round 
to  talk  with  him.  When  he  was  about  to  go  I  rose  to 
say  good-by  to  him,  turning  fully  round.  Instantly 
with  a  look  of  alarm  he  said  to  me,  "  Don't  turn  your 
back  on  Mr.  Speaker."  I  am  told  that  when  the 
Speaker  proceeds  from  the  House  to  his  apartments 


286  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

persons  of  whatever  dignity  who  may  be  in  the  cor- 
ridors are  swept  from  his  path  by  men  with  great 
staves  of  office  who  exclaim  with  solemnity,  "  Make 
way  for  Mr.  Speaker !  " 

From  my  excellent  seat  I  looked  on  for  near  an 
hour  on  what  to  me  was  an  interesting  scene,  though 
the  immediate  proceedings  w^ere  not  wholly  intelli- 
gible. Name  after  name  was  called  by  the  Speaker, 
and  a  member  would  rise  and  say  a  few  words  rapidly, 
and  then  descend,  with  what  appeared  to  be  a  peti- 
tion, to  the  clerks'  table.  Then  one  member  after 
another  rose  to  ask  a  question,  notice  of  which  he  had 
given  previously,  and  a  short  reply  was  at  once  made 
from  the  Treasury  Bench.  I  was  glad  to  hear  on  one 
of  these  occasions  the  clear,  ringing  voice  of  Mr.  Glad- 
stone, then  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  During  this 
time  the  House  was  gathering,  and  it  was  evident  from 
the  full  attendance  that  an  important  debate  was  ex- 
pected. A  flood  of  mild  light  poured  suddenly  on 
the  scene  near  five  o'clock ;  it  came  from  the  ceiling 
through  squares  of  ground  glass,  and  thus  was  every- 
where diffused. 

I  noticed  that  members  entering  the  House,  or 
going  out,  were  always  uncovered,  and  that  when 
they  took  their  seats  they  generally  put  their  hats 
on.  If  a  member  rose  to  speak  to  another  only  a 
few  feet  distant  he  instantly  removed  his  hat.  This 
little  custom  is,  however,  well  known.  Side  by  side, 
sitting  closely  together,  were  the  men  from  England, 
Wales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  who  were  the  real  rulers 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1863  287 

of  England  —  Sovereign  and  Ministers  being  but  the 
servants  of  their  will.  As  I  looked  I  could  well  un- 
derstand why  to  be  a  member  of  Parliament  was  so 
extreme  an  object  of  desire. 

At  five  o'clock  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  from  the  front 
Opposition  bench,  rose  to  begin  the  evening's  dis- 
cussion ;  his  seat  was  next  to  that  of  Mr.  Disraeli. 
In  his  opening  remarks  he  showed  much  solicitude 
lest  offence  should  be  given  to  the  Americans.  But 
he  urged  upon  the  Government  increase  of  energy 
in  the  construction  of  fortifications  at  Quebec  and 
elsewhere.  He  said  England  was  especially  bound 
to  defend  Canada  against  the  Americans,  because  it 
was  only  the  conduct  of  England  which  had  excited 
American  hostility.  It  was  England,  and  not  Canada, 
that  had  precipitately  given  to  the  South  belligerent 
rights,  and  it  was  England,  and  not  Canada,  that  had 
suffered  the  Alabama  to  escape.  Remarkable  lan- 
guage this,  I  thought,  to  come  from  the  Tory  side 
of  the  House ;  it  amounted  almost  to  a  confession 
that  these  particular  acts  could  not  be  defended. 
The  whole  speech  was  based  on  the  idea  of  there 
being  irritation  against  England  in  America  which 
might  at  any  moment  lead  to  war.  It  was  admitted 
that  good  feeling  between  the  two  Governments  then 
existed,  this  being  largely  due  to  the  "  wise,  discreet, 
and  prudent  conduct "  of  the  American  representa- 
tive in  England,  who  had  done  more  than  any  man 
living  to  preserve  peace  between  the  two  countries. 
Cheers  came  from   both  sides   of  the   House  at  this 


288  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

reference  to  Mr.  Adams.  Mr.  Fitzgerald  went  on  to 
point  out  how  imperfect  were  the  present  defences  of 
the  Canadian  frontier;  how  feeble  the  force  on  the 
Lakes.  He  said  the  Guards  were  in  Canada,  the 
flower  of  the  army;  that  there  were  in  all  8,000  or 
10,000  troops;  that  had  war  broken  out  during  the 
previous  three  years  the  only  counsel  to  be  given  to 
these  troops  would  be  to  take  to  their  ships.  He 
suggested,  in  conclusion,  that,  in  the  intoxication  pro- 
duced by  a  successful  ending  of  the  war,  the  popula- 
tion of  the  North  might  insist  on  attacking  Canada 
under  the  belief  that  she  was  incapable  of  making 
any  defence. 

While  Mr.  Fitzgerald  was  speaking  a  slight  move- 
ment on  the  bench  immediately  before  the  one  on 
which  I  sat  led  me  to  glance  that  way.  A  young 
man  was  sitting  down  and  several  other  persons 
were  rising  as  he  did  so.  "  Do  not  move,"  he  said 
quietly,  and  all  was  still  again.  Another  glance  at 
the  side  face  of  the  young  man  thus  taking  his  place 
as  a  peer  to  listen  to  a  debate  in  the  Commons 
House  of  Parliament  confirmed  my  first  thought  — 
it  was  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  expression  of  his 
countenance  was  pleasing ;  it  was  to  me  that  of  a  man 
of  kind  heart.  This,  too,  was  my  feeling  when  I  saw 
him  five  years  before  at  Oxford  and  in  Philadelphia. 

Mr.  Forster  was  given  the  floor  to  reply  to  Mr. 
Fitzgerald.  He  remarked  first  that  the  expense  of 
fortifications  as  proposed  would  be  enormous,  and 
that  there  was  no  feeling  in  America  toward  England 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMOXS  LV  iS6j  289 

that  would  justify  the  outlay.  He  said  the  alarm  that 
prevailed  was  due  first  to  the  speech  of  Lord  Derby, 
and  next  to  the  leaders  of  the  Times.  In  a  late  arti- 
cle there  had  been  this  passage,  "  If  the  Federals 
can  go  to  war  with  the  prospect  of  success,  they  will 
go  to  war ;  "  the  article  concluding  with  the  expres- 
sion of  the  hope  that  the  present  contest  in  America 
might  continue  so  that  the  Northern  people  might 
become  exhausted  and  unable  to  attack.  Mr.  Forster 
admitted  that  articles  hostile  to  England  had  ap- 
peared in  the  American  papers,  but  he  asked  whether 
what  the  English  papers  had  said  at  different  times 
was  not  a  fair  offset  to  them.  He  attributed  the  then 
excitement  to  the  influence  of  Confederate  agents  and 
Confederate  sympathizers  who  sought,  as  a  last  effort, 
to  friorhten  Eno-land  into  some  action  hostile  to  the 
North ;  and,  further,  to  the  efforts  of  persons  who  had 
foretold  from  day  to  day  the  miserable  failure  of  the 
Federal  power,  and  who  now  sought  to  divert  atten- 
tion from  their  mistakes  by  urging  that  the  success 
of  the  North  would  but  herald  war  with  England. 
He  said  the  people  of  the  North  were  not  greedy  of 
empire  and  of  dominion ;  they  were  fighting  to  pre- 
vent the  destruction  of  their  countrv ;  neither  were 
they  vindictive,  and  eager  for  revenge  ;  nor  was  it  true 
that  their  Government  was  unable  to  control  them. 
Further,  the  Americans  could  not  but  appreciate  the 
adherence  of  the  Lancashire  operatives  to  their  cause. 
He  said :  ''  For  one  man  in  this  country  who  has 
deluded  himself  into  the  belief  that  the  greatest  ex- 


290  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

periment  of  modern  times  is  a  failure,  there  are  a  hun- 
dred who  have  hoped  from  the  beginning  that  the 
great  Repubhc  would  come  out  of  the  struggle  un- 
scathed, and  who  rejoice  now  that  it  seems  likely  that 
she  will  emerge  purified  from  that  slavery  which  has 
been  her  weakness  and  shame,  because  it  has  been 
her  sin,"  Mr.  Forster  concluded  by  saying  that  peace 
in  the  United  States  would  be  the  best  defence  for 
Canada ;  that  the  prosperity  of  the  country  North  and 
South,  which  would  surely  follow,  would  put  away  all 
thought  of  war ;  that  the  time,  he  trusted,  was  at  hand 
when  all  English-speaking  men,  either  in  the  British 
Islands  or  their  dependencies,  or  in  the  great  Repub- 
lic, would  feel  themselves  so  bound  together  by  com- 
mon interests,  by  ties  of  language,  blood,  faith,  and 
common  freedom,  as  to  make  them  essentially  one 
people  and  brotherhood. 

Mr.  Disraeli  was  one  of  the  next  speakers  ;  he  said 
he  was  not  one  of  the  mortified  and  baffled  prophets 
to  whom  the  honourable  member  (Mr.  Forster),  had 
referred.  "  Now  the  right  honourable  gentleman 
opposite  "  (Mr.  Gladstone)  "  made  the  most  confident 
predictions  of  the  success  of  the  South."  He  sought 
also  to  defend  his  chief.  Lord  Derby,  by  saying  that 
living,  as  he  did,  with  that  eminent  statesman  in  per- 
fect confidence,  he  could  declare  that  they  shared  the 
same  sentiments  as  to  American  affairs.  He  said  he 
had  from  the  first  been  of  opinion  that  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  United  States,  under  circumstances  of 
unprecedented   difficulty,   had   conducted    itself  with 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1865  291 

great  energy  and  great  discretion.  He  thought  there 
was  no  immediate  danger  of  war;  the  Americans  of 
the  North  were  a  sagacious  people,  and  were  not 
likely  to  seize  the  moment  of  exhaustion  as  the  one 
most  favourable  for  beginning  another  contest.  The 
talk  of  some  of  their  newspapers  —  rowdy  rhetoric  he 
might  call  it  —  was  no  more  to  be  considered  the 
settled  judgment  of  the  people,  than  the  strange  and 
fantastic  drinks  of  which  England  heard  so  much 
were  to  be  regarded  as  their  ordinary  potations.  The 
American  democracy,  he  said,  was  a  territorial  de- 
mocracy ;  he  added,  "  Aristotle,  who  has  taught  us 
most  of  the  wise  things  we  know,  never  said  a  wiser 
thing  than  that  the  cultivators  of  the  soil  are  the  class 
least  inclined  to  sedition  and  violent  courses." 

But,  he  said,  a  strong  central  government  would  be 
necessary  in  the  United  States  to  preserve  order  in 
the  South,  and  an  army  would  be  required  to  uphold 
it.  This  might  entail  danger  to  Canada.  It  was  Eng- 
land's duty  to  defend  Canada  so  long  as  she  desired 
to  continue  her  connection  with  the  mother  country. 
On  this  general  ground  he  was  in  favour  of  greater 
energy  in  carrying  on  works  of  fortification. 

Disraeli  was  followed  by  Mr.  Lowe  —  at  that  time 
a  distinguished  member  of  the  House  —  a  man  of  the 
most  acute  and  vigorous  mind.  He  spoke  with  ex- 
traordinary rapidity  and  animation.  He  urged  the 
House  to  take  a  common-sense  view  of  matters ;  said 
that  it  was  impossible  to  cope  with  the  Americans  on 
the  Lakes;  that  in  18 13  and   18 14  they,  the  English, 


292  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

had  got  well  thrashed  there.  Then  there  were  no 
railways  ;  now  by  means  of  the  New  York  Central  and 
the  Erie  Railroads  the  Americans  could  put  ten  gun- 
boats on  Lake  Erie  or  Lake  Ontario  to  the  Cana- 
dians' one.  As  to  troops,  the  Americans  could  invade 
with  ten  times  the  number  that  Canada  could  brins: 
into  the  field.  "  Could  anything  be  more  wild,"  he 
said,  "  than  an  attempt  to  vie  with  America  on  her 
own  ground?"  He  reminded  the  House  that  General 
Montgomery,  in  the  War  of  Independence,  had  to 
struggle  through  almost  impenetrable  woods,  in  the 
depth  of  winter.  America,  he  said,  now  has  railways 
which  could  transport  to  the  frontier  any  number  of 
men  she  pleased.  In  regard  to  Quebec,  he  said  Gen- 
eral Wolfe  cannonaded  it  from  Point  Levi,  three  quar- 
ters of  a  mile  from  the  town,  even  with  the  artillery  of 
that  day.  If  Point  Levi  were  seized,  it  was  certain 
that,  with  modern  artillery,  Quebec  would  be  abso- 
lutely at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy.  He  said  he  had 
never  seen  a  place  which  seemed  to  be  commanded 
from  more  points.  When  Wolfe  attacked  it  and  gained 
the  Heights  of  Abraham,  Montcalm  judged  it  pru- 
dent to  march  out  into  the  open  field  instead  of  await- 
ing the  assault  behind  his  fortifications.  Mr.  Lowe 
added,  what  sounded  oddly  to  me  after  all  this,  that  he 
would  not  object  to  improving  the  fortifications,  but 
he  thought  it  impossible,  when  the  troops  were  once 
hunted  into  Quebec  and  Montreal,  that  they  should 
ever  escape  again.  It  had  been  assumed,  he  said,  that 
you  could  only  make  war  in  Canada  during  the  sum- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IIV  1863  293 

mer,  and  then  ships  in  the  St.  Lawrence  could  aid  in 
the  defence ;  but  General  Montgomery,  who  besieged 
Quebec,  had  made  his  way  through  Maine  in  the  depth 
of  a  severe  winter.  He  assaulted  the  city  at  that  time 
of  year,  and  if  an  extraordinary  casualty  had  not  hap- 
pened —  if  he  with  seventeen  of  his  staff  had  not  been 
killed  by  the  discharge  of  a  single  cannon  — he  might 
have  taken  Quebec,  and  the  destinies  of  Canada  might 
have  been  entirely  changed.  Mr.  Lowe  urged  the 
withdrawal  of  the  British  troops  from  Canada  because 
their  presence  there  would  be  an  incentive,  in  Amer- 
ica, to  war  —  the  desire  to  capture  a  small  army  and 
lead  it  in  triumph  through  the  States  would  be  irresis- 
tible. He  said  he  grudged  the  Americans  this  gratifi- 
cation, and  he  wished  to  take  away  every  motive  for 
war.  War  with  America  he  said,  in  conclusion,  would 
be  the  greatest  calamity  that  could  befall  either  coun- 
try, perhaps  the  whole  human  race. 

Mr.  White,  member  for  Brighton,  who  was  one  of 
the  next  speakers,  referred  to  the  satisfactory  tone  and 
temper  of  the  Opposition  speeches  of  the  evening,  as 
contrasted  with  the  speech  of  their  leader.  Lord  Derby, 
in  the  House  of  Lords.  He  thought  that  noble  Lord 
would  not  have  ventured  on  such  inflammatory  lan- 
guage had  he  regarded  his  early  return  to  power  as 
probable. 

One  of  the  most  sensible  things  said  in  the  debate 
was  a  remark  of  Mr.  Ayrton's,  viz.,  that,  instead  of  for- 
tifying Canada,  it  would  be  better  to  yield  to  the 
American   demand  for  arbitration  —  that  Lord  Rus- 


294  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

sell's  refusal  to  entertain  this  was  the  real  cause  of  irri- 
tation in  the  United  States ;  the  demand  would  be 
repeated  when  the  United  States  had  again  become 
strong,  and  then  England  might  have  to  yield  it  or  go 
to  war. 

Prophetic  words  these  were,  for  though  six  years 
later  the  Government  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  to  its  great 
honour,  yielded  to  the  demand,  unaccompanied  by  a 
threat  of  war,  yet  England  had  come  to  see  the  peril- 
ous position  she  was  in  by  allowing  it  to  stand  as  a 
precedent  that  the  escape  of  the  Alabama  was  not 
a  matter  for  which  she  was  to  be  called  to  account. 
To  Mr.  Gladstone  the  credit  of  the  great  act  of  the 
Geneva  Arbitration  is  mainly  due ;  this  is  some  offset 
to  what  was  the  prodigious  error  of  his  previous  politi- 
cal life  —  the  public  and  confident  prediction  of  the 
success  of  the  South. 

Lord  Robert  Cecil,  now  the  Marquis  of  Salisbury, 
spoke  next;  he  scouted  the  idea  of  arbitration,  and 
urged  the  most  vigorous  efforts  for  the  defence  of 
Canada.  At  eleven  o'clock  Mr.  Bright  took  the  floor, 
beginning  what  proved  to  be  one  of  his  greatest 
speeches  —  the  last,  I  think,  of  the  splendid  orations 
by  which  that  eminent  man  upheld  the  cause  of  the 
American  Union  during  the  period  of  its  awful  trial. 
He  addressed  himself  to  the  particular  matter  of  the 
vote  asked  for,  and  said  at  once  there  was  no  power 
in  the  United  Kingdom  to  defend  successfully  the 
territory  of  Canada  against  the  power  of  the  United 
States.     He  begged  honourable  gentlemen  not  to  talk 


THE  HOUSE   OF  COMMONS  IN  iSdj  295 

folly,  and  be  called  afterward  to  act  folly.  He  said 
there  was  not  a  man  in  the  United  States  whose 
opinion  w^as  worth  considering  who  desired  to  attack 
Canada ;  nor  had  the  Canadians  any  real  hostility  to 
their  neighbours.  They  had  been  unwise  in  not  pre- 
venting the  raids  which  bands  of  Confederates  had 
made  across  the  frontier ;  but  the  Government  of 
Canada  was  now  doing  all  in  its  power  to  check  these 
raids.  All  was  calm  in  that  region,  and  the  United 
States  was  making  no  complaint.  It  was  plain  then 
that  if  war  broke  out  it  would  be  because  of  hostility 
between  America  and  England,  between  the  Govern- 
ment of  Washington  and  the  Government  of  London. 
Was  there  any  one  in  that  House,  he  asked,  who 
desired  such  a  war.f*  He  noticed  with  deli2:ht  the 
change  which  had  come  over  the  House  in  regard  to 
American  questions.  Honourable  members  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  England  was  not  in  favour  of 
war  with  America.  The  Government  had  preserved, 
in  the  main,  its  neutrality  during  the  struggle ;  it  had 
resisted  a  motion  to  break  the  blockade  ;  it  had  re- 
sisted the  efforts  of  the  Confederate  Government  to 
obtain  recognition,  although  France  had  urged  Eng- 
land to  join  her  in  granting  this.  The  question  then 
came  up :  Did  the  United  States  wish  war.f^  Mr.  Bright 
maintained  that  the  relations  between  the  two  coun- 
tries were  entirely  amicable,  and  had  been  growing 
more  and  more  so  during  the  past  months.  He  said 
there  never  was  an  administration  in  the  United 
States,  since  the  time  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  more 


296  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

favourable  to  peace  with  England  than  the  Govern- 
ment of  which  President  Lincoln  was  the  head.  Not 
a  line  of  President  Lincoln's  could  be  shown,  since 
his  accession  to  power,  which  betrayed  anger  against 
England.  But  if  the  United  States  did  not  want  war, 
and  Canada  did  not,  and  England  did  not,  whence 
was  it  to  come  ?  Why  the  anxiety  ?  People  said 
"  the  City  "  was  alarmed.  Well,  he  never  knew  the 
City  to  be  right.  As  to  the  newspapers,  he  agreed 
with  Mr.  Forster  in  thinking  the  course  they  were 
taking  showed  a  wish  to  hide  their  own  confusion. 
Mr.  Bright  asked  the  House  whether  they  had  not  in 
their  heart  of  hearts  a  feeling  that  their  course  in  the 
past  four  years  had  not  been  fair  toward  the  United 
States  —  whether  some  stings  of  conscience  were  not 
the  cause  of  the  uneasiness  which  was  felt. 

He  proceeded  then  to  review  some  of  the  acts  of 
England  of  which  America,  he  said,  had  cause  to 
complain.  First  the  acknowledgment  of  the  bellig- 
erent rights  of  the  South.  He  did  not  condemn  the 
Government  for  this  action,  except  on  the  ground  of 
the  undue  haste  of  it.  Fort  Sumter  was  fired  on  on 
the  12th  of  April,  1861.  Mr.  Dallas,  the  then  Ameri- 
can Minister,  declined  to  discuss  any  important  matter 
with  the  Government,  as  he  did  not  represent  the 
President ;  his  successor  was  on  the  way,  and  would 
arrive  on  such  a  day.  Mr.  Adams  did  arrive  on  the 
13th  of  May,  and,  on  opening  his  newspaper  the  next 
morning,  he  found  the  proclamation  of  neutrality,  and 
the  acknowledgment  of  the  belligerent  rights  of  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  I IV  1S65  297 

South.  Mr.  Bright  said  the  Government  should  have 
awaited  Mr.  Adams's  arrival  in  order  to  explain  the 
need  of  the  action  they  contemplated,  and  that  they 
might  thus  disclaim  unfriendly  feeling  toward  the 
United  States  Government.  Their  not  doing  so  made 
the  act  seem  to  the  Americans  almost  hostile ;  it 
caused  grief  and  irritation  at  the  North,  while  it  gave 
comfort  and  courage  at  Richmond. 

Then,  as  to  the  Trent  matter,  undoubtedly  the 
Americans  were  wrong  in  seizing  the  envoys.  True, 
there  were  English  precedents  for  such  action,  but 
they  belonged  to  the  long  past.  The  Government 
was  right  in  demanding  explanation,  but  no  defence 
could  be  made  for  their  instant  conclusion  that  the 
United  States  Government  would  justify  the  act, 
nor  for  their  at  once  preparing  for  war.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  evidence  that  Captain  Wilkes  had 
acted  under  orders  from  Washington.  But  this  was 
not  all.  It  became  known  later  that  the  American 
Secretary  of  State,  Mr.  Seward,  the  moment  the  news 
of  the  seizure  reached  Washington,  wrote  to  Mr. 
Adams  informing  him  the  Government  had  not  au- 
thorized it,  and  that  they  were  ready  to  enter  into 
consideration  of  it  with  the  British  Government.  The 
despatch  was  communicated  by  Mr.  Adams  to  the 
Foreign  Secretary,  and  was  conclusive  as  to  the  fact 
that  the  Americans  were  ready  for  friendly  discussion 
of  the  matter.  The  Government,  strange  to  say,  with- 
held from  the  public  the  knowledge  that  such  a  des- 
patch   had    been    received,    and    went    on    with    war 


298  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

preparations.  Further  than  this,  a  journal,  supposed  to 
be  the  organ  of  the  Prime  Minister  (Lord  Pahiierston), 
had  denied  with  solemnity  that  any  such  despatch  had 
been  received.  The  result  was  that  for  almost  a  month 
the  English  people  were  allowed  to  remain  in  full  ex- 
pectation of  war.  It  might  almost  have  seemed  that 
the  purpose  of  the  Government  was  to  fan  the  flames 
of  war,  even  when  the  ground  for  it  had  been  removed. 

I  may  mention  here  that  I  had  myself  evidence  of 
this  withholding  of  important  evidence  of  the  friendly 
feeling  of  the  Americans  at  that  critical  time,  for  a 
copy  of  the  newspaper  of  the  date  of  about  Decem- 
ber 15,  referred  to  by  Mr.  Bright,  containing  a  de- 
nial of  the  report  that  a  despatch  friendly  in  tone 
had  been  received  by  Mr.  Adams,  was  sent  to  me 
from  London.  It  was  on  November  15  that  news  of 
the  seizure  of  the  envoys  was  received  in  America, 
and  late  in  the  month  the  news  reached  England. 
The  despatch  of  Mr.  Seward  to  Mr.  Adams  reached 
him  about  December  10.  News  of  the  settlement  at 
Washington  of  the  Trent  matter  reached  England 
about  January   10,   1862. 

I  may  venture  further  to  interrupt  my  abstract  of 
Mr.  Bright's  speech,  by  quoting  two  passages  from 
letters  of  mine  to  the  London  Guardian,  one  bear- 
ing date  before  the  settlement  was  accomplished,  the 
other  when  the  crisis  was  at  an  end.  On  December 
17,  1 86 1,  I  wrote:  — 

"  The  news  which  has  come  to-day  has  caused  indescribable 
excitement,  for  it  seems  almost  to  amount  to  a  declaration  of 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1865  299 

war  by  England.  The  law  officers  of  the  Crown,  it  is  said, 
have  decided  against  us ;  and  at  once,  without  awaiting  the 
reply  of  our  Government,  vast  military  preparations  have 
been  ordered.  One  statement  is  that  our  very  forbearance 
in  not  stopping  the  voyage  of  the  Trent,  and  sending  her 
into  port  for  adjudication,  makes  our  act  illegal.  Thus,  on 
a  lawyer's  opinion  that  our  exercise  of  the  belligerent  right 
of  search  has  in  this  instance  been  marked  by  some  circum- 
stance of  informality,  England  is  about  to  begin  a  war  with 
a  nation  allied  to  her  in  blood,  and  at  a  time  when  she  was 
especially  bound  to  show  that  nation  forbearance  and  consid- 
eration. Long  ago  I  ventured  to  express  the  opinion  that  we 
were  fighting  England's  battle,  inasmuch  as  our  domestic  con- 
test was  to  prevent  the  spread  of  slavery.  Of  late  it  has 
seemed  that  slavery  would  everywhere  cease  in  this  land  un- 
less the  men  who  had  taken  up  arms  to  extend  and  strengthen 
it  should  prevail  in  the  struggle,  and  unless  England  should 
interfere  in  their  behalf.  This  latter  contingency,  it  may  be, 
is  now  to  become  a  reality,  and  the  ruin,  for  a  time,  of  my 
country  and  the  triumph  of  slavery  to  be  hereafter  on  the 
consciences  of  Englishmen.  In  the  awful  solemnities  of  the 
hour  you  will  not  deny  me  the  utterance  of  these  sad  forebod- 
ings, if  so  be  that  a  single  voice  might  help  to  stay  a  fearful 
wrong.  A  demand  made  on  this  country  for  the  surrender  of 
the  men  taken  from  the  Trent,  with  war  as  the  alternative  of 
the  refusal,  must,  of  course,  have  but  one  reply.  We  cannot 
yield  to  menace,  when  we  consider  law  to  be  on  our  side,  and 
expect  to  hold  hereafter  our  position  among  the  nations.  Wide- 
spread ruin  may,  it  is  true,  follow  to  all  our  material  interests, 
but  we  shall  not  be  alone  in  our  suffering.  England  has  vast 
interests  in  this  country  which  will  at  once  be  imperilled ;  the 
market  here  for  her  products  will  cease  to  exist ;  her  commerce 
in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  may  be  assailed.  The  little  navy, 
which  the  Times  says  can  be  swept  so  quickly  from  the  seas, 
is  one  that  has  grown  in  seven  months  from  46  vessels  to 
264.     But  it  is  distressing  to  write  such  words  as  these ;  and 


3O0  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

they  lead  one  away  from  the  question  of  chief  concern  to 
Christian  men.  Is  England  about  to  begin  an  unjust  war  ? 
I  think  our  people  would  be  willing  to  refer  the  case  to  any 
impartial  umpire,  or  even  to  a  neutral  prize  court.  Every- 
where I  hear  suggestions  like  these,  while  the  opinion  is  uni- 
versal that  to  yield  simply  to  a  display  of  force  is  utterly 
impossible." 

On  the  6th  of  January,  1862,  I  wrote:  — 

"  Although  the  case  of  the  Trent  is  settled  and  beginning 
to  fade  from  the  remembrance  of  people  here,  it  is  proper 
I  should  state  the  fact  that  much  soreness  of  feeling  toward 
England  remains.  The  conviction  that  we  had  overstepped 
the  Umits  of  law  does,  it  is  true,  gain  strength,  but  men  are 
unable  to  see  that  the  offence  was  such  as  to  warrant  an 
instant  beginning  of  war  by  England.  We  cannot  but  con- 
sider, too,  that  there  was  little  of  the  charity  that  hopeth 
all  things  in  the  action  of  your  Government,  presuming,  as 
they  seem  to  have  done,  that  this  country  would  not  listen 
to  reason,  and  was  incapable  of  wishing  to  make  reparation 
if  wrong  had  been  done.  The  hasty  embarkation  of  troops 
for  Canada,  and  the  vast  warlike  preparations  of  every  kind, 
of  which  each  steamer  now  brings  us  accounts,  leads  us  the 
more  to  dwell  on  this  low  view  of  America  which  has  been 
taken  by  England.  We  ask  ourselves  further,  what  must 
be  the  judgment  of  the  world  on  the  spectacle  which  has 
been  presented  to  it  t  What  effect,  it  might  be  questioned, 
has  Christianity  had  upon  the  nations,  if  the  two  of  all  others 
the  nearest  allied  in  blood,  and  in  which  it  is  claimed  that 
religion  has  most  influenced  the  lives  of  men,  are  ready  on 
so  trivial  a  pretext  to  rush  to  arms  ? " 

I  have  given  the  above  passages  because  they 
show  plainly  enough  the  fever  of  excitement  in 
which  we  all  lived  in  those  days.  It  is  not  to  be 
forgotten    that   two   ill-judged    actions   on   our    part 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1865  301 

afforded  some  justification  for  the  steps  taken  by 
England.  One  was  a  hasty  letter  of  our  Secretary 
of  the  Navy,  Gideon  Welles,  commending  the  action 
of  Captain  Wilkes;  the  other,  a  public  meeting  in 
Boston,  in  which  a  Judge  of  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court  took  part,  the  purpose  of  it  being 
to  express  approval  of  the  seizure  of  the  envoys. 
The  sober  second  thought  of  the  people  of  this 
country  was,  I  think,  to  the  effect  that  while,  by 
British  decisions  and  British  precedents,  the  act  of 
Captain  Wilkes  might  readily  be  defended,  it  failed 
of  justification  under  that  interpretation  of  inter- 
national law  for  which  the  United  States  had  always 
earnestly  striven. 

The  final  remark  to  be  made  on  the  Trent  matter 
is  that  it  was  given  to  Prince  Albert  to  do  a  service 
to  civilization  as  great  as  any  man  has  been  able 
to  perform  in  these  latter  times.  The  despatch  in 
which  the  surrender  of  the  envoys  was  demanded 
being  submitted  to  him,  he  insisted,  on  behalf  of 
the  Queen,  on  such  modification  of  it  as  would  re- 
move from  it  everything  which  was  of  the  nature 
of  menace.  It  may  well  be  said  that  by  this  change 
war  was  averted. 

To  resume  my  notice  of  Mr.  Bright's  important 
speech.  He  took  a  final  opportunity  of  referring  to 
Mr.  Laird,  the  builder  of  the  Alabama,  "  a  mem- 
ber of  the  House  who  is  careful  not  to  be  present 
this  evening."  He  said,  "  I  do  not  complain  of  the 
friendship    of   that   honourable  member   for   Captain 


302  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Semmes,  who  might  be  described,  as  another  sailor 
once  was,  as  "  the  mildest-mannered  man  that  ever 
scuttled  a  ship " ;  but  he  did  complain  that  he,  a 
member  of  Parliament  and  a  magistrate  of  a  county, 
should,  by  his  building  of  the  Alabama,  drive  Eng- 
land into  an  infraction  of  international  law.  He 
referred  to  a  retort  of  Mr.  Laird's  to  him,  Mr. 
Bright,  of  two  years  before,  that  he  would  rather 
be  the  builder  of  a  dozen  Alabamas  than  be  one 
to  stir  up  class  against  class,  —  words  which  had 
been  received  with  repeated  cheering  on  the  Oppo- 
sition side  of  the  House.  He  referred  to  the  fact 
that  this  same  gentleman  or  firm,  after  they  had 
seen  the  peril  into  which  the  country  was  drifting 
on  account  of  the  Alabama,  had  gone  on  audaciously 
to  build  the  two  rams.  These  great  vessels,  Mr. 
Bright  said,  the  Government  had  only  summoned 
up  courage  to  seize  when  war  was  on  the  eve  of 
breaking  out  on  account  of  them. 

Mr.  Bright  made  impressive  allusion  to  the  stead- 
fastness of  the  bulk  of  the  great  counties  of  Yorkshire 
and  Lancashire  under  their  sufferings  from  the  failure 
of  the  cotton  supply.  Not  an  expression  of  sympathy 
with  the  Confederacy  could  ever  be  wrung  from  them. 
Indeed,  the  fact  that  peace  had  been  preserved  between 
England  and  America  was  due  more  to  the  laborious 
millions  than  to  the  wealthy  and  the  cultivated. 

Very  striking  was  the  conclusion  of  this  great 
speech.  "  Nature,"  he  said,  "  will  not  be  baffled  be- 
cause we   are  jealous   of   the    United  States.      The 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1863  303 

decrees  of  Providence  will  not  be  overthrown  by  aught 
we  can  do."  He  dwelt  then  on  the  certain  orrowth  of 
population;  it  was  then  35,000,000;  the  increase 
would  be  more  than  a  million  persons  per  year.  Jeal- 
ousies were  sure  to  disappear ;  there  had  been  undue 
excitement  in  America,  and  there  had  been  inadequate 
knowledge  of  the  real  state  of  events  in  that  country 
since  the  beginning  of  the  war,  even  among  persons 
high  in  rank  and  distinguished  in  culture  in  England. 
Mr.  Bright  said  finally :  — 

"  It  is  on  record  that  when  the  author  of  '  The  Decline 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire '  was  about  beginning  his 
great  work,  David  Hume  wrote  a  letter  to  him  urging  him 
not  to  employ  the  French,  but  the  English  tongue,  because, 
he  said,  our  establishments  in  America  promise  superior  sta- 
bility and  duration  to  the  English  language.  How  far  that 
promise  has  been  in  part  fulfilled,  we  who  are  living  now  can 
state ;  but  how  far  it  will  be  more  largely  and  more  com- 
pletely fulfilled  in  after  times,  we  must  leave  to  after  times  to 
tell.  I  believe  that  in  the  centuries  which  are  to  come,  it  will 
be  the  greatest  pride  and  the  highest  renown  of  England  that 
from  her  loins  have  sprung  a  hundred  millions  —  it  may  be 
two  hundred  millions  —  of  men  who  dwell  and  prosper  on  that 
continent  which  the  old  Genoese  gave  to  Europe.  Sir,  if  the 
sentiments  which  I  have  uttered  shall  become  the  sentiments 
of  the  Parliament  and  people  of  the  United  Kingdom  —  if  the 
moderation  which  I  have  described  shall  mark  the  course  and 
Government  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  —  then,  not- 
withstanding some  present  irritation  and  some  present  distrust, 
and  I  have  faith  both  in  us  and  them,  I  believe  that  these 
two  great  commonwealths  will  march  abreast,  the  parents  and 
the  guardians  of  freedom  and  justice,  wheresoever  their  lan- 
guage shall  be  spoken  and  their  power  shall  extend." 


304  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

A  day  or  two  after  the  important  debate  of  which 
I  have  been  telling  I  had  an  interesting  interview  with 
Mr.  Adams.  As  I  looked  forward  to  meeting  him, 
I  recalled  what  Mr.  Sumner  told  me  seven  years 
before,  that  Charles  Francis  Adams,  having  finished 
the  Life  of  his  grandfather,  was  about  to  enter  public 
life  —  that  he  was  to  be  elected  to  Congress;  and 
that  he  was  as  great  a  man  as  his  father  or  his 
grandfather.  I  little  foresaw  the  great  service  he  was 
to  render  to  his  country,  as  her  representative  in  Eng- 
land, at  a  time  when  only  the  highest  wisdom  would 
avail  for  the  duties  of  an  American  Minister.  I  found 
him  hale  and  cheerful,  with  a  serenity  of  bearing, 
indeed,  which  told  of  difficulties  overcome,  and  a  path- 
way now  clear.  I  could  not  but  endeavour  to  express 
to  him,  almost  at  once,  the  feeling  of  gratitude  toward 
him  common  to  us  all  at  the  North  for  the  great  work 
it  had  been  given  him  to  perform  in  London.  I  might 
have  said,  indeed,  that  he  had  seemed  to  me,  from  the 
first,  to  have  the  same  marvellous  qualifications  for 
his  high  and  difficult  position,  that  Mr.  Lincoln  had 
for  the  Presidency.  But  I  did  say  to  him  that  it  was 
a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  hear,  as  I  had  a  night  or 
two  before,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the  cheers 
which  came  from  both  sides  of  the  House  at  every 
mention  of  his  name.     He  replied :  — 

"  Oh,  the  English  have  always  been  kind  to  me  personally. 

One  matter  which  occurred  early  helped  me  with  them.  My 
letter  of  instructions  I  had  been  ordered  to  read  to  the  For- 
eign Secretary  on  my  first  interview  with  him,  and  to  give 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1863  305 

him  a  copy  of  it.  But  as  I  read  this  paper  of  Mr.  Seward's 
myself  carefully,  I  felt  satisfied  that  portions  of  it  would  give 
offence.  I  was  certain  that  in  the  extremely  delicate  condi- 
tion of  our  then  relations  with  England,  it  would  be  danger- 
ous to  lay  before  the  Foreign  Secretary  a  document  in  which 
our  attitude  toward  the  British  Government,  and  the  demands 
we  made,  were  stated  so  uncompromisingly  —  indeed,  in  al- 
most the  language  of  menace.  I  accordingly  determined  to 
disobey  this  particular  of  my  instructions,  although  I  knew  I 
ran  a  risk  in  doing  so.  I  resolved  to  make  my  communica- 
tion to  Lord  John  Russell  in  my  own  words,  rather  than  in 
Mr.  Seward's.  Of  course  I  had  fully  possessed  my  mind  with 
the  substance  of  the  letter.  I  soon  had  my  interview  with 
the  Foreign  Secretary ;  I  was  with  him  for  three  hours,  and 
was  able,  I  thought,  to  remove  many  wrong  impressions 
which  he  had  received,  and  under  which  the  Government  had 
been  acting.  The  truth  is  that  Lord  Lyons  had  misled  them. 
Living  as  he  did  at  Washington,  where  the  controlling  influ- 
ences of  society  were  distinctly  Southern,  and  seeing  how 
resolute  the  Southern  leaders  were,  and  how  intense  was 
their  feeling,  it  was  natural  for  him  to  make  up  his  mind  that 
the  slave  States  would  certainly  succeed  in  establishing  their 
separate  government.  Such,  clearly,  had  been  the  tenor  of 
his  despatches  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war,  and  for  months 
preceeding  it.  All  this,  I  had  to  show  Lord  John  Russell,  was 
a  hasty  conclusion,  not  warranted  by  the  full  facts  of  the  case. 
I  was  satisfied  with  the  impression  I  made,  and  felt  that  I  had 
done  all  that  I  could  be  expected  to  do,  as  I  had  been  per- 
mitted to  state  thus  fully  the  grounds  on  which  the  North 
built  their  hopes  of  success.  I,  of  course,  acquainted  our 
Government  with  the  fact  that  I  had  withheld  the  letter.  I 
was  aware  that  letters  or  despatches  addressed  by  the  Secre- 
tary of  State  to  a  foreign  minister  are  sometimes  intended 
mainly  for  the  home  public ;  such,  I  supposed,  might  be  the 
case  in  this  instance.  I  took  a  similar  responsibility,  to  this 
that  I  have  stated,  by  withholding  the  full  text  of  Mr.  Seward's 


306  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

instructions  to  me  in  the  event  of  the  refusal  of  the  British 
Government  to  prevent  the  going  out  of  the  two  rams  from 
the  port  of  Liverpool.  In  this  latter  case  Mr.  Seward,  find- 
ing I  had  not  given  to  the  Foreign  Secretary  copies  of  the 
despatches  he  had  addressed  to  me,  ordered  them  to  be  pub- 
lished. They  appeared,  accordingly,  precisely  as  though 
they  had  been  communicated  to  Lord  John  Russell.  At 
once  there  were  stern  enquiries  in  both  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment how  it  was  that  the  Foreign  Secretary  had  allowed 
such  language  to  be  laid  before  him.  Lord  John  made  the 
quiet  reply  that  no  such  words  had  been  submitted  to  him, 
that  he  saw  them  then  for  the  first  time.  The  fact  that  I  had 
withheld  them  was  considered  to  my  credit,  and  strengthened 
the  good  feeling  of  the  English  toward  me." 

I  said  to  Mr.  Adams  it  had  been  matter  of  great 
surprise  to  me  that  the  Government  had  allowed  the 
building  of  the  two  rams  to  go  on  so  long  as  they  did; 
their  being  ships  of  \var  without  any  armament  made 
their  very  preparation  so  flagrant  a  violation  of  inter- 
national law.  I  asked  whether  he  thouQ:ht  there  was 
real  danger  of  their  being  allow^ed  to  go  out.  He  said 
certainly  there  was ;  he  had  again  and  again  submitted 
evidence  to  the  Foreign  Secretary  showing  the  char- 
acter of  the  vessels,  and  always  the  reply  was  that 
Government  was  assured  they  were  private  property, 
and  therefore  they  could  not  interfere.  One  final 
batch  of  testimony,  Mr.  Adams  said,  he  submitted, 
intimating  plainly  that  his  instructions  were  to  de- 
mand his  passports  in  case  the  vessels  were  allowed 
to  go  out.  Lord  John  replied  that  he  saw  no  more 
in  the  evidence  submitted  than  in  that  which  the  Gov- 
ernment had  already  considered.       Mr.  Adams  then 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  iS6s  307 

replied  briefly  that  this  was  war.  On  receipt  of  these 
very  serious  words  Lord  John  summoned  Lord  Palm- 
erston,  the  Prime  Minister,  to  London,  and  the  result 
of  the  consultation  was  that  an  order  was  issued  to 
seize  the  rams.  The  precise  words  of  Mr.  Adams,  in 
the  note  referred  to,  as  I  learnt  afterward,  were  as  fol- 
lows. After  expressing  profound  regret  at  the  conclu- 
sion to  which  her  Majesty's  Government  had  come, 
he  added,  "  It  would  be  superfluous  in  me  to  point  out 
to  your  Lordship  that  this  is  war." 

Mr.  Adams  went  on  further  to  explain  to  me  in  re- 
gard to  the  action  of  the  Government,  that  they  had, 
from  the  beginning  of  the  war,  been  compelled  to  pro- 
ceed warily  ;  the  Opposition  were  constantly  on  the 
watch  to  trip  them  up  on  the  American  Question  ; 
the  Tories,  as  a  party,  were  in  sympathy  with  the 
South. 

Some  curious  particulars  Mr.  Adams  mentioned  in 
regard  to  the  tardy  efforts  of  the  Government  to  pre- 
vent the  going  out  of  the  Alabama.  He  said  Mr. 
Dudley  brought  him  some  evidence,  which  they  both 
thought  was  conclusive,  as  to  the  character  of  the  ves- 
sel ;  it  was  not  stronger  than  other  evidence  which 
Mr.  Adams  had  submitted  to  counsel,  with  no  satis- 
factory result ;  he  hesitated  about  throwing  away 
more  of  the  money  of  the  American  Government  in 
lawyers  fees.  Just  then  Mr.  Forster  came  in,  and 
Mr.  Adams  asked  his  advice.  He  said  he  thousfht 
Mr.  Collier,  who  was  a  member  of  the  House  and  an 
eminent  Queen's  counsel,  would  give  a  good  opinion. 


308  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

Mr.  Adams  submitted  the  evidence,  which  Mr.  Dud- 
ley had  brought,  to  Mr.  Collier,  who  soon  gave  the 
opinion  that  if  the  Foreign  Enlistment  Act  was  not 
sufficient  to  hold  the  vessel  it  was  no  better  than  waste 
paper.  Fortified  with  this,  Mr.  Adams  made  a  further 
appeal  to  the  Foreign  Secretary.  By  him  the  papers 
were  referred  to  the  Advocate  General,  and  exactly  at 
this  point  of  time  this  functionary  became  insane.  A 
delay  of  a  few  days  followed,  and  this  was  one  of  the 
causes  of  the  escape  of  the  Alabama.  She  went  out, 
as  is  well  known,  under  pretence  of  a  trial  trip,  and 
did  not  return. 

I  had  a  few  other  meetings  in  London  which  were 
of  much  interest  tome  in  those  days  of  March,  1865, 
when  here,  on  this  side  the  ocean,  the  great  drama  of 
war  was  drawing  toward  its  closing  scene.  At  Mr. 
Forster's  table  I  had  the  happiness  to  find  myself  next 
to  John  Bright.  I  could  tell  him  of  the  gratitude 
which  was  felt  toward  him  in  all  loyal  American 
hearts.  He  remarked  to  me  that  the  American  war 
had  caused  him  more  anxiety  than  any  event  of  his 
whole  political  life.  I  understood  him  to  mean  that 
he  felt  that  the  cause  of  free  constitutional  sfovern- 
ment  was  staked  on  its  issue.  Of  the  company  pres- 
ent was  Matthew  Arnold,  and  I  remember  being 
struck  with  the  fact  that  he  and  Mr.  Bright  met  then 
for  the  first  time.  Next  to  me  on  my  right  was  a 
clergyman,  a  Mr.  Fraser,  of  pleasing  manners,  and  as 
I  felt,  from  my  talk  with  him,  of  high  intelligence. 
Five  years  afterward  I  again  met  him ;  he  was  then 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  iS6j  309 

Bishop  of  Manchester.  He  died  but  a  few  years  ago, 
after  a  distinguished  and  honoured  episcopate  of  fifteen 
years.  It  was  Mr.  Forster  to  whom  his  elevation  was 
chiefly  due.  He  selected  him,  when  only  the  vicar  of 
a  country  parish,  to  go  out  to  America  to  examine  as 
to  our  common-school  system.  The  report  he  made 
drew  Mr.  Gladstone,  the  Prime  Minister's  attention  to 
him  ;  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Manchester,  He  threw 
himself  into  his  work  with  such  ardour,  and  with  so 
truly  catholic  a  spirit,  that  by  some  one's  happy  in- 
stinct he  was  designated  as  the  "  Bishop  of  all  Denom- 
inations." But  I  recall  his  saying  to  me  when  I  met 
him,  after  his  elevation,  that  he  would  have  preferred 
to  remain  in  his  simple  way  of  life. 

On  the  28th  of  March  I  was  present  at  another 
field-night  in  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was  a  de- 
bate on  the  Church  Establishment  in  Ireland.  Very 
important  this  proved  in  its  after  results.  I  went  be- 
tween four  and  five.  Members  with  their  hats  on 
were  sitting  carelessly  on  the  cushioned  benches,  and 
others,  hats  off,  were  moving  about.  There  was  the 
hum  of  conversation  everywhere,  and  somehow  there 
was  that  in  the  atmosphere  which  betokened  a  stirring 
debate  at  hand.  At  five  o'clock  a  certain  Mr.  Darby 
Griiiith,  member  for  Devizes,  rose,  and  at  once  there 
broke  from  every  part  of  the  House  cheer  after  cheer. 
There  was  something  peculiar  in  the  sound,  and  yet 
it  was  natural  for  me  to  suppose  that  here  was  some 
notable  member  appearing  after  a  long  absence,  and 
greeted  accordingly.     I  soon  found  my  mistake ;  the 


3IO  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

cheers  were  ironical,  and  the  House  was  merely  ex- 
pressing its  vexation  at  the  thought  of  the  infliction 
that  awaited  it ;  the  member  for  Devizes  was  an  insuf- 
ferable bore.  He  stood  firm,  notwithstandins^  the  ridi- 
cule  thus  levelled  against  him  at  the  outset.  At 
length  there  was  a  pause,  and  he  began  with  entire 
calmness  his  dreary  harangue,  and  maundered  on, 
spite  of  efforts,  again  and  again  renewed,  to  stop  him. 
Conversation  went  on  at  a  high  key  during  such  inter- 
vals as  there  were  between  the  bolder  efforts  at  inter- 
ruption. The  drowsy  "  Order,  order,"  of  the  Speaker 
had  little  effect  to  restrain  the  House.  For  three 
quarters  of  an  hour  the  infliction  lasted. 

The  speech  of  Mr.  Dillwyn,  with  which  the  de- 
bate of  the  evening  opened,  was  rather  a  halting 
one ;  its  purpose  was  to  show  that  the  Irish  Church 
Establishment  was  a  great  wrong  to  the  body  of 
people.  An  Irish  member,  known  as  "  The  O'Don- 
oghue,"  seconded  the  resolution  with  which  Mr. 
Dillwyn's  speech  had  closed.  Sir  George  Grey  on 
the  part  of  the  Government  opposed  the  motion. 
His  speech  was  fluent  and  very  direct  and  clear; 
it  was  that  of  a  practised  debater,  to  whom  long 
years  of  parliamentary  life  had  given  grace  of  man- 
ner. He  admitted  there  was  a  grievance,  but  urged 
that  to  attempt  to  redress  it  would  involve  the  coun- 
try in  dissensions  which  would  be  totally  destructive 
to  peace  and  progress.  Mr.  Gathorne  Hardy  fol- 
lowed in  what  struck  me  as  a  brilliant  oration, 
lasting  for  an  hour  and  a  half.     He  spoke  from  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1865  311 

front  Opposition  bench.  He  urged  that  to  attack 
the  Irish  Church  was  to  attack  the  English ;  but 
he  seemed  sincere  in  his  conviction  that  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  Establishment  in  Ireland  was  for 
the  good  of  the  Irish  people.  There  was  a  charm 
in  his  readiness  and  his  perfect  self-possession.  I 
listened  without  a  thought  of  fatigue,  though  it  was 
nine  o'clock  when  he  came  to  an  end. 

Five  hours  had  now  passed.  Members  who  had 
gone  away  for  dinner  were  returning.  I  noticed, 
however,  that  Lord  Palmerston  and  Mr.  Gladstone 
had  scarcely  been  absent  at  all.  The  Speaker  left 
the  chair,  and  there  was  a  pause  of  ten  minutes. 
Then  Mr.  Gladstone  took  the  floor.  For  one  hour 
this  great  orator  enchained  the  attention  of  the 
House,  controlling  it  in  part  by  his  eloquence,  and 
in  part  by  the  interest  which  was  excited  by  the 
desire  to  know  what  line  he  would  take  in  reeard 
to  the  perplexing  subject  under  discussion.  To  the 
surprise  of,  I  think,  ijiost  of  those  who  listened,  he 
gave  his  adhesion,  clearly  and  distinctly,  to  the 
statement  that  the  condition  of  the  Irish  Church 
Establishment  was  unsatisfactory.  He  stated  that 
condition  to  be  this:  in  a  nation  of  between  five 
and  six  millions  of  people,  about  600,000  or  700,000 
had  the  exclusive  possession  of  the  ecclesiastical 
property  of  the  country  intended  to  be  applied  to 
the  religious  instruction  of  all.  He  argued  that  this 
state  of  things  could  not  continue,  but  he  denied 
that  the  time  for  dealing  with  the  question  had  yet 


312  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

fully  come.  The  speech  seemed  eminently  wise, 
and  it  was  uttered  in  an  earnest  way,  enforcing  one's 
assent.  The  moment  he  came  to  an  end,  an  emi- 
nent Opposition  orator,  Mr.  Whiteside,  started  to 
his  feet,  and,  with  the  air  of  a  man  confident  in 
himself  and  rejoicing  in  his  opportunity,  addressed 
himself  to  the  work  of  a  reply.  It  was  a  splendid 
arena  on  which  he  looked  round,  for  the  House 
was  now  crammed,  and  it  was  evident  the  speaker 
was  one  to  whom  all  delighted  to  listen.  He  spoke 
mainly  from  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  for  Mr. 
Gladstone's  speech  was  in  great  part  his  text.  He 
knew  well  the  importance  of  the  declaration  to 
which  he  was  thus  replying,  and  he  was  conscious, 
too,  that  the  great  body  of  his  Tory  supporters,  sit- 
ting in  close  phalanx  behind  him,  relied  on  him  to 
do  his  best.  So  his  Irish  blood,  one  could  suppose, 
was  all  aglow  at  the  thought  of  his  being  thus  a 
recognized  champion  in  what  was  likely  to  prove 
a  memorable  contest.  Not  for  a  moment  did  he 
pause  to  collect  his  ideas,  but,  starting  at  once  in 
a  high  strain  of  eloquence,  he  swept  on  with  irre- 
sistible force  and  effect.  It  was  a  flood  of  denun- 
ciation and  of  sarcasm,  and  there  was  withal  a  sort 
of  rollicking  humour  showing  itself  through  the 
scholarly  refinement  that  really  characterized  his 
speech.  Once  the  House  was  moved  to  uncon- 
trollable laughter  at  the  orator's  expense;  he  was 
betrayed  into  the  curious  Hibernian  statement  that 
the   province  of    Ulster  returned    thirty  members  to 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1S63  313 

this  House,  some  of  whom  had  sat  in  Parliament 
for  two  centuries.  He  explained,  in  some  adroit 
way,  his  meaning  as  soon  as  the  House  would  listen, 
and  the  flow  of  his  eloquence  swept  on.  He  closed 
his  speech    soon  afterward  in  a  tempest  of   cheers. 

It  was  after  eleven  o'clock  when  he  sat  down,  and 
the  chief  interest  of  the  debate  was  now  over.  What 
gave  great  importance  to  the  evening's  discussion  was 
that  it  had  been  the  occasion  of  one  of  the  memorable 
declarations  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  life,  committing  him 
further  as  a  Liberal,  but  involving  the  sacrifice  of 
something  dear  to  him,  his  seat  as  a  member  for  the 
University  of  Oxford.  The  honour  he  lost  in  the 
general  election  of  1868  was  bestowed  upon  his  oppo- 
nent in  this  debate  of  1865,  Mr.  Gathorne  Hardy.  It 
has  been  sometimes  charged  against  Mr.  Gladstone 
that  he  assailed  the  Irish  Church,  and  urged  disestab- 
lishment, when  he  was  out  of  office,  and  as  a  means 
of  recovering  power.  The  record  of  this  debate 
shows  that  he  pronounced  against  it  in  1865,  when 
he  was  in  office.  The  bill  for  disestablishment  was 
passed  in  1869. 

The  day  after  the  debate  of  which  I  have  been 
telling,  I  had  the  great  satisfaction  of  an  interview  of 
an  hour  with  Mr.  Gladstone.  He  had  appointed  half 
past  ten  for  my  call  at  Carlton  House  Terrace.  As 
I  entered  the  wide  hall  he  was  enterino:  it  from  the 
staircase.  He  had  a  book  or  review  in  his  hand.  As 
the  House  had  sat  late,  it  was  natural  that  his  face 
should  show  signs  of  short  hours  of  sleep.     He  led 


314  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDGES 

me  at  once  into  the  library,  a  large  room,  and  gave 
me  a  seat  near  the  fire.  He  referred,  of  course,  very 
soon  to  the  war,  and  asked  me  what  I  thought  was 
likely  to  be  the  course  of  it.  I  said  it  was  plain  to 
me  it  was  near  its  close.  But,  he  asked,  had  not  the 
South  still  resources  to  draw  on ;  he  had  seen  the  state- 
ment that  they  were  about  themselves  to  declare  the 
slaves  free,  and  put  arms  in  their  hands.  I  said  this  sug- 
gestion was  really  one  of  despair,  that  a  Confederate 
officer  had  told  me  it  came  from  Mr.  Benjamin,  who 
owned  no  slaves  himself.  Moreover,  I  said,  the  blacks 
knew  the  North  to  be  their  friends.  Northern  soldiers 
escaping  from  prisons  at  the  South  had  always  been 
helped  on  their  way  by  the  slaves.  I  then  added  that 
two  governments  were  really  impossible  within  the 
limits  of  the  United  States.  He  asked  at  once  why 
they  were  impossible,  and  rather  held  me  to  precise  and 
definite  objections.  I  said  there  was  no  natural  boun- 
dary; that  the  West  and  Northwest  could  never  allow 
the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  to  be  beyond  their  control ; 
that  New  Orleans  could  never  be  surrendered  by  the 
Federal  Government,  nor  could  the  control  of  Chesa- 
peake Bay  be  given  up.  I  referred  to  the  fact  that 
separate  governments  would  imply  frontier  fortresses 
and  separate  fleets. 

Mr.  Gladstone  then  referred  to  his  own  state  of 
mind  in  regard  to  the  war ;  said  he  had  thought  the 
North  was  attempting  the  impossible ;  he  had  never 
opened  his  mouth  on  the  merits  of  the  contest.  He 
added  with  warmth  that  it  was  a  vulgar  error  to  sup- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1865  315 

pose  that  any  but  the  most  inconsiderable  portion  of 
the  English  people  desired  the  downfall  of  the  United 
States.  He  went  on  to  say  that  he,  with  many  others, 
thought  our  system  of  government  was  not  capable  of 
bearing  the  strain  of  a  great  civil  war ;  that  the  States 
seemed  too  loosely  knit  together.  "  But,"  he  said, 
speaking  with  great  animation,  "  in  the  constancy 
w4iich  has  been  shown,  the  fortitude,  the  self-sacrifice, 
I  for  one  perceive  the  extraordinary^  strength  which  is 
given  by  free  institutions."  He  said  further,  though  I 
cannot  give  his  precise  words,  that  the  love  of  country 
which  had  been  exhibited  had  given  to  the  world  a 
very  striking  lesson.  He  qualified  this  by  saying  that 
a  similar  heroic  spirit  had  been  shown  by  the  South. 
It  was  natural  for  me  to  wish  to  obtain  from  Mr. 
Gladstone  some  expression  in  regard  to  Mr.  Lincoln. 
I  said  I  hoped  he  appreciated  the  advantage  the 
United  States  had  had,  in  this  great  crisis,  in  the 
gifts  of  mind  of  the  President  and  his  singleness  of 
heart.  He  replied  at  once,  with  his  peculiar  anima- 
tion, almost  vehemence  of  manner,  that  he  did  most 
fully.  He  had  always,  he  said,  thought  well  of  Mr. 
Lincoln,  and  considered  that  he  had  high  qualities  as 
a  leader ;  but  his  Inaugural  Address,  which  had  just 
come,  filled  him  with  admiration ;  he  saw  in  it  evi- 
dence of  a  moral  elevation  most  rare  in  a  statesman, 
or  indeed  in  any  man.  "  I  am  taken  captive,"  he  said 
in  substance,  "  by  so  striking  an  utterance  as  this.  I 
see  in  it  the  effect  of  sharp  trial  when  rightly  borne  to 
raise  men  to  a  higher  level  of   thought  and  feeling. 


3l6  WORDSWORTH  AISTD   THE  COLERIDGES 

It  is  by  cruel  suffering  that  nations  are  sometimes 
born  to  a  better  life ;  so  it  is  with  individual  men. 
Mr.  Lincoln's  words  show  that  upon  him  anxiety  and 
sorrow  have  wrought  their  true  effect."  Mr.  Glad- 
stone spoke  with  approval  of  Mr.  Forster's  bearing  in 
regard  to  the  war.  "  Mr.  Bright,"  he  said,  "  does  cruel 
injustice  to  the  South."  This  remark  I  thought 
showed  that  Mr.  Gladstone's  sympathies  had  been 
with  the  South,  though  they  might,  if  the  phrase  is 
allowable,  be  called  unconscious  sympathies. 

I  cannot  forbear  to  give  here  those  last  words  of 
President  Lincoln  which  made  so  profound  an  impres- 
sion on  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  which  will  cause  men  to 
lift  up  their  hearts  while  our  English  tongue  endures. 

"The  Almighty  has  his  own  purposes.  'Woe  unto  the 
world  because  of  offences,  for  it  must  needs  be  that  offences 
come,'  'but  woe  to  that  man  by  whom  the  offence  cometh.' 
If  we  shall  suppose  that  American  slavery  is  one  of  these 
offences,  which  in  the  providence  of  God  must  needs  come, 
but  which,  having  continued  through  His  appointed  time,  He 
now  wills  to  remove,  and  that  He  gives  to  both  North  and 
South  this  terrible  war  as  the  woe  due  to  those  by  whom  the 
offence  came,  shall  we  discern  there  any  departure  from  those 
divine  attributes  which  the  believers  in  'a  living  God  always 
ascribe  to  Him.  Fondly  do  we  hope,  fervently  do  we  pray, 
that  this  mighty  scourge  of  war  may  speedily  pass  away.  Yet 
if  God  wills  that  it  continue  until  all  the  wealth  piled  by  the 
bondsman's  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  of  unrequited  toil 
shall  be  sunk,  and  until  every  drop  of  blood  drawn  with  the 
lash  be  paid  by  another  drawn  by  the  sword,  as  it  was  said 
three  thousand  years  ago,  so  still  it  must  be  said,  that  '  the 
judgments  of  the  Lord  are  true  and  righteous  altogether.' 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  jSbs  317 

"  With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firm- 
ness in  the  right  as  God  gives  us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  finish 
the  work  we  are  in,  to  bind  up  the  nation's  wounds,  to  care 
for  him  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle,  and  for  his  widow 
and  his  orphans,  to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and  cher- 
ish a  just  and  a  lasting  peace  among  ourselves  and  with  all 
nations." 

On  the  3d  of  April  England  was  startled  by  news 
of  the  death  of  Richard  Cobden.  In  the  House  of 
Commons  Lord  Palmerston  and  Mr.  Disraeli  spoke, 
the  same  evening,  in  sober  and  graceful  eulogy  of 
him;  the  latter  characterized  him  as,  without  doubt, 
the  greatest  political  character  the  pure  middle  class 
of  England  had  yet  produced.  Mr.  Bright's  few  and, 
I  think,  broken  words  were  as  follows :  — 

"  Sir,  I  feel  that  I  cannot  address  the  House  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  but  every  expression  of  sympathy  which  I  have  heard 
has  been  most  grateful  to  my  heart.  But  the  time  which  has 
elapsed  since  in  my  presence,  the  manliest  and  gentlest  spirit 
that  ever  tenanted  or  quitted  a  human  form  took  its  flight,  is 
so  short  that  I  dare  not  even  attempt  to  give  utterance  to  the 
feehngs  by  which  I  am  oppressed.  I  shall  leave  to  some 
calmer  moment,  when  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
before  some  portion  of  my  countrymen,  the  lesson  which  I 
think  may  be  learned  from  the  life  and  character  of  my  friend. 
I  have  only  to  say  that,  after  twenty  years  of  most  intimate 
and  almost  brotherly  friendship  with  him,  I  little  knew  how 
much  I  loved  him  until  I  found  that  I  had  lost  him." 

On  the  8th  of  April  I  embarked  at  Liverpool  for 
my  return  voyage,  and  on  the  19th,  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  we  took  on  board  a  pilot,  who  brought 


3l8  WORDSWORTH  AND    THE   COLERIDGES 

US  news  of  the  fall  of  Richmond  and  the  surrender  of 
Lee.  Although  we  were  but  one  hundred  miles  from 
New  York,  the  intelligence  we  thus  received  only 
reached  to  the  date  of  Friday,  the  14th.  The  Ameri- 
cans on  board  had  six  hours  of  high  rejoicing  over 
our  glorious  successes,  little  knowing  what  a  terrible 
calamity  had,  on  the  night  of  that  same  Friday, 
befallen  the  country.  Our  good  ship,  the  Persia, 
steamed  rapidly  on,  and  the  American  coast  grew 
more  and  more  distinct.  The  day  was  of  marvellous 
brightness,  and  most  of  the  passengers  were  on  deck 
to  enjoy  the  interesting  approach.  All,  too,  were 
happy  in  the  thought  of  the  speedy  ending  of  a 
prosperous  voyage.  We  paused  off  Sandy  Hook, 
just  at  the  entrance  to  the  Narrows,  for  there  we 
were  to  deliver  a  letter  bag  to  be  put  on  board  the 
China,  the  steamer  of  that  day  for  Europe,  and  which 
was  already  under  way.  I  leaned  over  the  ship's 
side,  watching  the  approach  of  the  small  boat  which 
was  thus  to  convey  letters  from  one  steamer  to  the 
other.  Slowly  it  came  over  the  bright  waters ;  the 
bag  was  thrown  down  to  it,  and  some  late  English 
newspapers ;  and  in  return  a  New  York  paper  of  that 
day  was  handed  up  to  our  captain.  Looking  from 
above,  I  saw  that  the  paper  was  in  mourning.  Some- 
thing very  serious,  it  was  plain,  had  happened.  An 
Englishman  near  me  suggested  that  the  mourning 
might  be  for  Cobden.  "  No,"  said  I,  "  that  cannot  be 
the  explanation."  Fifteen  minutes  passed  before  Cap- 
tain  Lot,  who  had  taken  the  paper  to  his  cabin,  re- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS  IN  1865  319 

turned  with  it,  and  handed  it  to  his  passengers,  with 
its  terrible  announcement.  Then  the  tidings  went 
instantly  from  one  to  another,  "  Mr.  Lincoln  is  dead, 
he  has  been  assassinated."  Who  that  was  of  suffi- 
cient years  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  words 
can  ever  forget  the  shock  and  horror  of  them !  To 
us,  on  the  ship,  there  was  the  further  element  of  be- 
wilderment that  the  when,  where,  and  how  of  the 
murder  were  still  unknown  to  us.  The  one  news- 
paper we  had  was  chiefly  filled  with  details  of  the 
pursuit  of  the  assassin,  and  the  acts  of  the  new  Presi- 
dent, Johnson.  This  suspense  lasted  for  an  hour  or 
two.  With  the  coming  of  the  quarantine  officers  we 
received  the  full  tidings. 

I  landed,  and  everywhere  signs  of  sorrow  met  my 
eye.  It  was  the  day  of  the  funeral  at  Washington ; 
and,  in  town  and  country,  work  and  business  were 
alike  suspended.  Other  days  of  lamentation  followed, 
for  in  every  household  the  feeling  was  that  of  personal 
bereavement. 

The  funeral  at  Washington  was  the  beginning  of 
the  slow,  solemn  tread  of  a  procession  which  went 
from  city  to  city,  awakening  grief  anew,  as  one  eager 
waiting  multitude  after  another  was  reached.  I  saw, 
in  Philadelphia,  the  hearse  drawn  slowly  onward  along 
the  same  streets  by  which  the  living  man  had  gone, 
attended  by  rejoicing  multitudes,  to  begin  his  solemn 
work.  He  had  uttered  here  on  that  memorable  occa- 
sion, in  front  of  the  Hall  of  Independence,  words  which 
almost  expressed  foreboding  of  his  doom.    Momentous 


320  WORDSWORTH  AND   THE  COLERIDCES 

years  came  and  went;  his  steady  hand  guided  us 
through  our  aivful  danger,  until  at  last  his  country's 
deliverance  was  wrought.  Then  to  his  great  and  pure 
soul  came  the  release,  the  rehef  — shall  we  not  say  the 
reward  —  of  death. 


INDEX 


Abbotsford,  built  by  Blore,  131. 
Aberdeen,  Lord,  151,  248. 
Aberdeen,  University  of,  277. 
Achilli,   Dr.,   sues   Dr.  Newman,    151- 

154- 
Acland,  Sir  Henry,  204. 
Acland,  Sir  Thomas,  204,  273. 
Adams,  Charles  Francis,  257,  282,  287, 

288,  296,  297,    298;   interview  with, 

304-308. 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  5. 
Addison,  Joseph,  202. 
^schylus,  38. 
Ainger,  Canon,  176,  177. 
Aira  Force,  62. 
Alabama   Controversy,   the,     166,    257, 

264,  265,  287,  301,  302,  307,  308. 
Alfred,  the   thousandth   anniversary  of 

King,  201 ;   City  of,  207,  211. 
All  Saints'  Church,  the  building  of,  145, 

146,  147. 
All  Souls'  College,  228. 
Allibone,  S.  A.,  21. 
Allston,  Washington,  124. 
"Alton  Locke"  (Kingsley),  192. 
Ambleside,  33,  61,  75,  86,  94,  98. 
Ambleside  Church,  memorial  window  to 

Wordsworth  in,  56-57, 
American  Literature,  how  treated  in  the 

Quarterly  Review,  158. 
"Ancient  Mariner"  (Coleridge),  63. 
Antislavery  movement,  6-7. 
Arctic,  wreck  of,  55,  139,  141. 
Argyll,  Duke  of,  270. 
Aristotle,  291. 

Arnold,  Frances,  75,  76,  81-82. 
Arnold,  Jane,  see  Mrs.  W.  E.  Forster. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  26,  95,  157,  158,  166, 

236,  237,  262,  270,  308. 
Arnold,    Matthew  (Mrs.),  175. 

Y  32 


Arnold,  Thomas,  86,  90,  95,  250-252. 
Arnold,  Thomas  (Dr.),  76,  82,  96,  194, 

243,  246. 
Arnold,  Thomas  (Mrs.),  75,  76,  79,  80, 

82,  87,  88,  89,  90,  95,  96,  98. 
Arnold,  William  D.,  89,  186,  252,  275. 
Arnold-Forster,  Florence  (Miss),  276. 
Arnold-Forster,  H.  O.,  276. 
Ashburton,  Lady,  19. 
Atlantic  cable,  laying  of  the,  89,  281. 
Auckland,  251. 
Australasiayi,  steamship,  281. 
Ayrton,   his   part    in   a   debate   in   the 

House  of  Commons  (1865),  293. 

Baccarat  case,  the,  177-179. 

Bagehot,  Walter,  258. 

Baillie,  Joanna,  bust  of,  70. 

Balliol  College,  Oxford,  59. 

Balmoral,  263. 

Bampton  Lectures,  225. 

Bannockburn,  207. 

Bassenthwaite,  Lake,  85. 

Beaconsfield,  Lord,  268. 

Belligerent  rights  of  the  South,  English 

acknowledgment  of,  296-297. 
Ben  Rhyding,  243. 
Benjamin,  Judah  P.,  314. 
Bernard,    Mountague,     editor     of    the 

Guardian,  156,  157,  228. 
Bethell,  Sir  Richard,  232,  234,  235. 
Bhow  Begum,  64. 
Bidding  Prayer,  the,  226. 
Binney,  Horace,  11. 
"  Biographia  Borealis,"  121. 
"  Biographia    Literaria,"  105,  106. 
Birmingham,  152,  268. 
"  Bishop    of    all    Denominations,"   the 

(Bishop  of  Manchester),  309. 
Bishop  of  Cape  Town,  225. 


322 


INDEX 


Bishop  of  Oxford,  229. 

Bisley,  Vicar  of,  214,  215,  217,  219. 

Black  Heath,  home  of  John  Stuart 
Mill,  24. 

"Blithedale  Romance"  (Hawthorne), 
193- 

Blore,  architect  of  Abbotsford,  131. 

Board  Schools,  260. 

Bodleian  Library,  38,  226. 

Boehme,  Jacob,  191. 

Bolt  Court,  Rogers's  visit  to,  127. 

Boniface  VIH.,  207. 

Borage,  the,  226. 

Borrowdale,  68. 

Bowman,  Bishop,  12. 

Bradford,  268,  269, 

Brathay,  56. 

Bremer,  Frederika,  6. 

Bright,  John,  163,  230,  248,  256,  261, 
270,  282,  294-298,  301-303;  inter- 
view with,  308;  316. 

British  Museum,  reading  room,  150-151. 

Bronson,  Miss  (sister-in-law  of  Henry 
Reed),  55,  141. 

Bronte,  Charlotte,  life  of,  193. 

Brooks,  Preston  S.,  186,  187. 

Brotherswater,  61. 

Brougham,  Lord,  5,  18,  172,  232,  233, 
234- 

Broughton,  83. 

Browning,  E.  B.,  127,  132. 

Browning,  Robert,  127, 

Brydges,  Sir  Egerton,  74. 

Bulgarian  atrocities,  268. 

Buller,  Sir  Redvers,  271. 

Bunsen,  246. 

Burgon,  Dean,  273. 

Burgoyne,  Sir  John,  14. 

Burke,  Edmund,  146,  262. 

Burley,  W.  E.  Forster  buried  at,  275. 

Bury  St.  Edmunds,  179. 

Butterfield,  architect  of  All  Saints' 
Church,  145,  146,  151,  174. 

Buxton,  253. 

Buxton,  Sir  Thomas  Fowell,  241,  249, 
265. 

Calcutta,  148;   chief  justiceship  of,  156. 
California,  the  settlement  of,  35. 
Campbell,  Lord,  21. 


Canadian  Defences  Bill,  284-285,  287- 

296. 
Carey,  Henry,  15. 
Carlisle,  102. 

Carlton  House  Terrace,  home  of  Glad- 
stone, 313. 

Carlyle,  Jane  Welsh,  253,  254. 

Carlyle,  John,  translator  of  Dante,  63,  64. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  description  of  Welling- 
ton, 18,  19;  allusion  to  Mrs.  Taylor, 
24;  112,  192,  246;  visit  to  Ireland, 
253;  Forster's  comment  on,  254;  258. 

Carter,  Mr.,  secretary  to  Wordsworth, 
59.  60,  71. 

Catholic  emancipation,  5,  20,  234. 

Cecil,  Lord  Robert,  see  Marquess  of 
Salisbury. 

Chalmers,  Thomas,  19. 

Chamberlain,  Joseph,  270. 

Chancellorship  of  Cambridge  Univer- 
sity, 38. 

Chancellorship  of  Oxford  University, 
230. 

Channing,  W.  E.,  6. 

Chantrey's  bust  of  Wordsworth,  44,  71. 

"  Charge  of  the  Six  Hundred  "  (Tenny- 
son), 250. 

Charles  L,  155,  187. 

Charles  V.,  211. 

Charles  X.,  banishment  of,  4. 

Charleston,  fall  of,  282. 

Chase,  Judge,  8. 

Cherwell,  the,  202. 

China,  steamship,  318. 

Cholera,  in  France  and  England  (1849), 
108. 

Choral  music,  awakened  interest  in,  123. 

Christ  Church  College,  Oxford,  199,  201, 
203. 

"Christian  Year"  (Keble),  156,  212, 
215,  2l6. 

"  Christie  Johnstone  "  (Reade),  193. 

Church  establishment  in  Ireland,  debate 
on,  309-313. 

Civil  War  in  America,  11-15. 

Clarence  and  Avondale,  Duke  of,  175, 
176. 

Clarendon,  Lord,  259. 

Clarkson,  Thomas,  6. 

Clifford,  Edward,  artist,  272. 


INDEX 


323 


Cobden,  Richard,  death  of,  317-318. 
Cockburn,  Sir  Alexander,  death  of,  168. 
Cockermouth,  99,  100,  102. 
Coit,    Rev.    Dr.,    rector    of    St.    Paul's 

School,  Concord,  136. 
Coleridge,  Christabel,  124. 
Coleridge,  Derwent,  55,  61,  63,  64,  114, 

119,  120;   personal  memories  of,  123- 

138- 
Coleridge,  Derwent   (Mrs.),  123,   128, 

129,  133- 
Coleridge,    Edith    (daughter    of    Sara 

Coleridge),    59,    126,   128,   1 29;    her 

recollections  of  S.  T.  C,  133. 
Coleridge,     Ernest     (son     of    Derwent 

Coleridge),  134. 
Coleridge,  Hartley,  his  wayward  life,  47, 

56,  64,  72;   his  last  days,  73,  76;  114, 

115,  1 18-122,  246. 

Coleridge,  Henry  Nelson,  105,  124,  150. 

Coleridge,  Henry  Nelson  (Mrs.),  see 
Sara  Coleridge. 

Coleridge,  Herbert,  131. 

Coleridge,  John  Duke,  see  Lord  Cole- 
ridge. 

Coleridge,  John  Taylor,  76,  115,  148- 
165;  his  "Life  of  Keble,"  168;  169, 
170,  174,  219,  220,  246. 

Coleridge,  Lady,  171. 

Coleridge,  Lord,  17,  115,  145-150,  154- 
180. 

Coleridge,  Mr.  Justice,  see  John  Taylor 
Coleridge. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  87,  105,  114, 

116,  117,  124,  125;   conversation  of, 
133-134;  135,  139. 

Coleridge,  Sara,  25,  59,  64,96,  105-117; 

death  of,  125,  126,  131,  136,  138,  139. 
Collier,  Mr.,  a   Queen's  Counsel,  307- 

308. 
Confederate  schemes,  282-283. 
Coniston,  70,  93. 
Coniston  Water,  83. 
"  Credibility  of  Early  Roman  History  " 

(Lewis),  130,  149. 
Creweian  Oration,  the,  236. 
Crimean  War,  248,  250. 
Crittenden  Compromise,  li. 
Cropper,  Mrs.,  daughter  of  Dr.  Arnold, 

76. 


Crummock  Water,  85. 

Cumberland,  scenery  of,  %2ii  II4»  126. 

Dallas,  George  M.,  Minister  to  England, 

296. 
Dante,  translated  by  Dr.   Carlyle,  63 ; 

207. 
Dartmoor,  162. 
Davy,  John  (Dr.),  56,  246. 
Davy,  Sir  Humphry,  56. 
Delhi,  during  the  Mutiny,  89. 
Demosthenes,  38. 
Dennison,  Sir  William,  Governor  of  Van 

Diemen's  Land,  251. 
De  Quincey,  Thomas,  69. 
Derby,    Lord,    21,  230,  257,  258,  284- 

285,  290. 
Derwentwater,  63,  67,  68,  85. 
De  Tocqueville,  165,  186. 
De  Vere,  Aubrey,  107,  116,  118,  276. 
Devizes,  309,  310. 
Dillwyn,  Mr.,  speech  on  the  Irish  Church 

Establishment,  310. 
"  Discourses  on  University  Education  " 

(Newman),  153. 
Disraeli,  Benjamin,  257,  258,  287,  290, 

291,317- 

Dissenters  object  to  the  Education  Bill, 
260-263. 

Dobrizhoffer,  Martin,  115. 

Dodsworth,  his  attack  upon  Keble,  218. 

Douglas,  debate  with  Lincoln,  10,  II, 
256. 

Drummond,  Judge,  173. 

Dublin,  86. 

Duddon,  valley  of  the,  83. 

Dudley,  Thomas  H.,  consul  at  Liver- 
pool, 282,  283,  307,  308. 

Dupont,  Admiral,  15. 

Durham  Cathedral,  67. 

Dyce,  his  frescoes  in  All  Saints'  Church, 
147,  216. 

Dyce,  Alexander,  119. 

Easdale,  69,  70. 

Eckermann,  conversations  with  Goethe, 

19. 
Eden,  Charles  Page  (Rev.),  205. 
Edinburgh,  literary  circle  of,  70. 
Edinburgh  Review,  187. 


324 


INDEX 


Education  Bill,  Forster's,  248,  259-263. 

Egremont,  castle  of,  85. 

Egypt  (in  1856),  165;  (in  1884),  270. 

Elleray,  home  of  Professor  Wilson,  33. 

Ely  Cathedral,  108. 

Emerson,    Ralph  Waldo,  6,  7,   16,  96; 

Kingsley's  opinion  of,  192-193. 
Encumbered  Estates  Bill,  20. 
"  Enfranchisement    of  Women  "   (Mrs. 

Mill),  24. 
"  English  Traits  "  (Emerson),  193. 
Ennerdale,  85. 
Esthwaite  Water,  92. 
Euripides,  38. 
Everett,  Edward,  46. 
Eversley,  home  of  Kingsley,  183,  184. 
Exeter,  John  Duke  Coleridge,  member 

for,  163. 

Faber,  F.  W.,  72,  246. 

"  Fable  for  Critics  "  (Lowell),  193. 

Fellowships,  conditions  of  holding,  39. 

Fenton's  Hotel,  St.  James's  Street,  Lon- 
don, 250. 

Fielding,  Copley,  216. 

Fish,  Hamilton,  265. 

Fitzgerald,  Mr.,  his  speech  in  the  House 
of  Commons  (1865),  287-288. 

Fleming,  Lady,  50. 

Fletcher,  Angus,  70. 

Fletcher,  Mrs.,  70,  246. 

Foreign  Enlistment  Act,  308. 

Forster,  Robert,  241,  242. 

Forster,  William,  241,  261. 

Forster,  William  Edward,  prediction 
concerning  J.  S.  Mill,  26  ;  a  disciple 
of  Maurice,  98;  the  Alabama  claims, 
165-167;  Kingsley's  opinion  of,  184, 
185,  194;  241-277,  284,  285,  288- 
290,  296,  308,  309. 

Forster,  W.  E.  (Mrs.),  76,  244,  246,  247, 
250,  251,  252,  266,  269,  273,  274,  275. 

Fountains  Abbey,  247. 

Fox,  Caroline,  246, 

Fox,  Charles  James,  lines  on  the  death 
of,  82. 

Fox,  George,  191,  242. 

Fox  Ghyll,  home  of  W.  E.  Forster,  273. 

Fox  How,  home  of  Dr.  Arnold,  57,  74, 
76,  81,  82,  86-89,  91.  96,  246. 


Franklin,  Sir  John,  233. 

Eraser,   Mr.  (Bishop   of   Manchester), 

308-309. 
"Friends  in  Council"  (Helps),  193. 
Froude,  Hurrell,  214,  215. 
Froude,  J.  A.,  193. 
Fugitive  Slave  Law,  7. 
Funeral,  a  rural,  188-189,  216-217. 

Gambetta,  30. 

Garibaldi's  descent  upon  Sicily,  9,  229. 

Garrick,  David,  127. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  6,  7. 

Gaskell,  Mrs.,  193. 

Geneva  Arbitration,  166,  228,  264,  265, 
294. 

"  Genevieve  "  (Coleridge),  63. 

George  Eliot,  loi. 

Gerente,  H.,  108-109,  I47' 

Gibbon,  Edward,  303. 

Gibraltar,   William  Arnold's    death   at, 
275. 

Gillies,  Margaret,  44. 

Gillman,  James  and  Anne,  their  care  of 
S.  T.  Coleridge,  134. 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,   10;   account  of  the 
Oxford    movement,     147,     148;     his 
scholarship,  151;   his  appreciation  of 
Lincoln,   162,   315,  316;   Lord  Cole- 
ridge's opinion  of,   163;  his  govern- 
ment,   166;    offers  a   peerage  to  Sir 
John  Coleridge,  169;    Oxford  feeling 
for,  203,  230;  the  Crimean  War,  248; 
as  Prime  Minister,  259,   260 ;  his  re- 
tirement in  1865,  263,  265;   succeeds 
Lord    Beaconsfield,    268 ;     his    Irish 
Policy,    269-270 ;     the   desertion    of 
Gordon,   270-272  ;  the  character  of, 
273-274,    286  ;     his   attitude  toward 
the   Civil   War,    290 ;    promotes   the 
Geneva   Arbitration,    294 ;    appoints 
the     Bishop    of    Manchester,    309 ; 
speech  upon  Church  Establishment  in 
Ireland,  311-313;   an  interview  con- 
cerning American  affairs,  313-316. 
Gladstone,  W.  E.  (Mrs.),  231. 
Glenelg,  Lord,  128. 
Gloucester,  179. 

Gloucester   Cathedral,   musical    festival 
at,  219. 


INDEX 


325 


Goddard,   Wordsworth's    lines    on   the 

death  of,  87-88. 
Goethe,  20,  90. 

Gordon,  Chinese,  desertion  of,  270-272. 
Gordon  Gumming  trial,  the,  177-179. 
Gorham  Judgment,  the,  147, 
Goschen,  Hon.  G.  J.,  270. 
"Grace,"  at  Oriel  College,  205. 
Grant,  Sir  Francis,  130. 
Grant,  U.  S.,  265. 

Grasmere,  57,  59,  60,  70,  75,  86,  99, 119. 
Great  Seal,  charge  of,  172. 
Greek,  the  study  of,  39. 
Greeley,  Horace,  8. 
Greta,  63,  64,  86,  100. 
Greta  Hall  (home  of  Southey),  64,  65, 

66,  86,  113. 
Grey,  Earl,  5,  21. 
Grey,  Sir  George,  310. 
Griffith,  Darby,  309-310. 
Grote,  Mrs.,  23. 

Guardian,  the,  II,  156,  157,  298. 
Guilford,  Earl  of,  210. 
Guizot,  Wordsworth's  opinion   of,   36; 

Nassau    Senior's   acquaintance   with, 

164. 

Hallam,  Arthur  (quoted),  135. 

Hanwell,  Derwent  Coleridge  accepts  the 
living  of,  135. 

Harcourt,  Sir  William,  259. 

Hardy  Gathorne,  310-31 1,  313. 

Hare,  Augustus,  97. 

Hare,  Esther,  97. 

Hare,  Julius,  39,  76,  97,  246. 

Hare,  Maria,  97. 

Hartington,  Lord,  263,  270. 

Hawkshead,  92,  93. 

Hawthorne,  N.,  his  description  of  Ma- 
caulay,  132;  Lord  Coleridge's  appre- 
ciation of,  146;  Kingsley's  criticism 
of,  193;  his  description  of  York 
Minster,  208-209. 

Hawtrey,  Dr.,  Provost  of  Eton,  150. 

Heathcote,  Sir  WilHam,  216. 

Heath's  Court,  home  of  Mr.  Justice 
Coleridge,  115,  156,  158,  162, 174,  175. 

Heights  of  Abraham,  292. 

Helmore,  Mr.,  authority  on  Plain  Song, 
123,  131. 


Helps,  Arthur,  193,  263. 

Henry  VL,  flight  after  battle  of  Hexham, 

83. 
Henry  VIII.,  Wordsworth's  opinion  of, 

37;   his  entertainment  of  Charles  V., 

211. 
Herodotus,  38. 
Hexham,  battle  of,  83. 
Highgate,  home  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  125, 

135- 

High  Street,  Oxford,  202. 

Holbein,  portrait  of  Henry  VIII.,  38; 
portraits  by,  226. 

Homer,  authorship  of,  1 30-131;  criti- 
cism of,  150. 

Home  Rule,  269-270,  272-274. 

Hope,  Beresford,  147. 

Hope,  James,  147. 

Hope-Scott,  see  James  Hope. 

Hughes,  Thomas,  194. 

Hume,  David,  303. 

Hursley,  the  home  of  John  Keble,  208, 
211,  212,  216,  220,  222. 

Hutchinson,  Sarah,  Mrs.  Wordsworth's 
sister,  77,  118. 

Hutton,  R.  H.,  97,  98. 

Imperial  Federation,  270. 

Inaugural  address,  Lincoln's,  315-317. 

Inman,    his    portrait    of    Wordsworth, 

34- 
Interlachen,  242. 
International  copyright,  47. 
Ireland,   Carlyle's   visit   to,   253;    Lord 

Lieutenantship  of,  254-255. 
Irish    Church,   bill    for    disestablishing 

the,  248. 
Irish  Land  Bill  (of  1870),  248. 
Irish  outrages,  173. 
Irish  policy,  Gladstone's,  270. 
Isis,  the  (river  in  Oxford),  203. 
Isle  of  Wight,  Newman  at  the,  221. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  5. 
Jeffrey,  Francis,  70. 
John  XXII.,  207. 
Johnson,  Andrew,  319. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  127. 
Jones,   William  West,  Bishop  of  Cape 
Town,  225,  227,  228. 


326 


INDEX 


Jowett,    B.,    Master    of    Balliol,     loi, 

251- 
Juxon,  William  (Dr.),    founder   of   St. 
John's  College,  Oxford,  226,  227. 

Keble,  John,  the  dedication  to  Words- 
worth of  his  "  Lectures  on  Poetry," 
58;  quoted  by  Emerson,  97;  friend- 
ship for  Sir  John  Coleridge,  150,  155, 
156;  friendship  for  Kingsley,  189, 
190;   206,  208,  211-222. 

Keble,  John  (Mrs.),  217. 

Keble,  Thomas  (Rev.),  214,  216,  217, 
218,  219. 

Keswick,  62,  63,  85,  86,  99,  100,  113, 
116. 

Khartoum,  272. 

Kilmainham  Treaty  (1882),  269. 

Kingsley,  Charles,  controversy  with  Sir 
John  Coleridge,  156;  interview  with, 
183-196;  his  comment  on  British 
rule  in  India,  185,  186;  on  American 
affairs,  186;  on  slavery,  187,  1 88;  on 
the  Oxford  Movement,  190;  on  Quak- 
erism, 191;  on  American  writers,  192, 
193;  his  feeling  for  Maurice,  194; 
on  Spurgeon's  sermons,  195;  opinion 
of  Forster,  250. 

Kingsley,  Charles  (Mrs.),  185,  186,  188, 
1S9,  190,  191. 

King  William's  College,  Calcutta,  148. 

Kirkstone  Pass,  59,  61. 

Knox,  Alexander,  190. 

Kossuth,  26. 

Ladderbrow,  68. 

Lafayette,  his  reception  in  Philadelphia 

in  1824,  3-4. 
Laird,  Mr.,  the  builder  of  the  Alabama, 

301-302. 
Lamb,  Charles,  87,  116. 
Lancashire    operatives,  their    sympathy 

with  the  Northern  States,  289,  302. 
Lancrigg,  home  of  Mrs.  Fletcher,  70. 
Laud,  Dr.  William,  226,  227. 
Lawford,  Mrs.,  wife  of  Lord  Coleridge, 

174. 
Lawrence,  Sir  John,  252. 
Lee,  General  R.  E.,  318. 
Leeds,  Forster  at,  185. 


Leitch,  Mr.,  63,  64. 

Lewis,  Sir  George  Cornewall,  130,  149, 

151. 
"Liberty"  (J.    S.  Mill),  dedication   of, 

24. 
"  Life  of  Dr.  Arnold  "  (Stanley),  246. 
"  Life  of  Dr.  John  Fothergill  "'  (Hartley 

Coleridge),  122. 
"  Life  of  Keble  "  (Sir  John  Coleridge), 

168,  219. 
"  Life  of  Lord  Fairfax  "  (Hartley  Cole- 
ridge), 121. 
"Life  of  Sterling"  (Carlyle),  112. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  nomination   of,    10, 
256;    debate   with   Douglas,    lo-ii; 
progress   to  Washington,   12-13;  in- 
terview    with,      13-15;      Gladstone's 
opinion  of,  162,  315-316;   second  in- 
auguration  of,    282;     feeling   toward 
England,  296;  304. 
Lingard,  John,  209. 

Liverpool,  113,  281,  282,  283,  306,  317. 
Lodore,  Falls  of,  67,  68. 
London,  282. 
Lord   Chancellor,    his    charge    of    the 

Great  Seal,  172,  232. 
Lot,  Captain,  commander  of  the  Persia, 

318. 
Loughrigg,  57,  74,  75,  76,  81,  91,  95. 
Louis  XVL  cited  by  Kingsley,  187. 
Louis-Philippe,  36;  government  of,  108. 
Lovell,  Mrs.,  66,  67. 
Lowe,  Robert,  257,  291,  292,  293. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  49  (note) ;    193. 
Lucule7itissime,  236. 
Lundy,  Benjamin,  6. 
Luther,  Thirwall's  admiration  of,  39. 
Lyndhurst,  Lord,  21. 
Lyons,  Lord,  English  Minister  at  Wash- 
ington, 305. 
Lyulph's  Tower,  62. 

Macaulay,  T.  B.,  129-133,  191,  242. 

"  Macbeth,"  221. 

Macleod,  Xorman,  263. 

Madonna  di  San  Sisto,  34,  213. 

Magdalen  College,  202,  203. 

Maine,    Montgomery's  march  through, 

293- 
Maine,  Sir  Henry,  257. 


INDEX 


327 


Malle-poste,  traveliing  by,  28-29. 

Manchester,  179. 

Manning,  Cardinal,  40,  107,  147,  218. 

Mansel,  Professor,  227. 

Marriage,  an  Oriental  view  of,  149. 

Marriott,  Charles,  Fellow  of  Oriel  and 
Vicar  of  St.  Mary's,  199,  202,  204, 
205,  206. 

Marshall's  Island,  67,  70. 

Martineau,  Harriet,  6,  72,  97,  246. 

Mason  and  Slidell,  283-284. 

Master  in  Chancery,  Nassau  Senior, 
164. 

"  Maud  "  (Tennyson),  249. 

Maurice,  Esther,  97. 

Maurice,  F.  D.,  Hutton  and  Forster  dis- 
ciples of,  97-98 ;  his  defence  of 
Kingsley,  156,  190;  Thomas  Hughes 
a  disciple  of,  194;  his  estimate  of 
Spurgeon,  196,  266. 

McClintock,  Sir  Leopold,  233,  235. 

McMichael,  Morton,  12,  15,  141,  266. 

"Memorials  of  a  Quiet  Life"  (Hare), 

97- 
Merton,  chapel  of,  202. 
Metropolitan  of  South  Africa,  225. 
Michael  Angelo,  171. 
"  Middlemarch  "  (George  Eliot),  loi. 
Middle  Temple,  banquet  at  the,   175- 

177. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  22-27,  163,  164. 
Milman,  Dean,  150-151. 
Milnes,  Monckton,  132. 
Milton,    John,   Tennyson    reciting,    71, 

131- 

Mitre,  the,  an  Oxford  inn,  199,  202. 
"  Molony's  Lament "  (Thackeray),  255. 
Montcalm,  at  Quebec,  292. 
Montgomery,  General,  292,  293. 
Montreal,  292. 
Motley,  J.  L.,  233,  235.  236. 
Mott,  Lucretia,  6,  245. 
Moultrie,  John,  124. 
Moxon,  poet  and  publisher,  128. 
Mozart,  130. 

Miiller,  engraving  of  the  Dresden  Ma- 
donna, 213. 
Miiller,  Max,  188. 
Muncaster  Castle,  83. 
Murat,  Lucien,  30. 


Napier,  Mr.,  Member  for  Dublin  Uni- 
versity, 20. 

Napoleon,  Louis,  30. 

Navarino,  battle  of,  4-5. 

Neale,  John  Mason,  80,  209. 

"  Nemesis  of  Faith  "  (Froude),  193. 

New  College,  206. 

Newman,  John  Henry,  107  ;  effect  of 
his  sermons,  147;  his  followers,  150; 
sued  by  Dr.  Achilli,  151-154;  influ- 
ence upon  Keble,  155;  portrait  of, 
171 ;  his  successor  at  St.  Mary's,  199, 
204;  his  admiration  for  Pusey,  200; 
visit  to  Keble,  220,  221 ;  205. 

New  Zealand,  251. 

Nollekens,  his  parsimony,  129. 

Nonconformists,  their  objection  to  the 
Education  Act  of  1870,  260-263. 

Notre  Dame,  rebuilding  of  the  South 
Transept,  109. 

"Oakfield"  (\V.  D.  Arnold),  89,  186. 

Occam,  207. 

"O'Donoghue,  The,"  310. 

"Ode  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington" 
(Tennyson),  249,  250. 

Oriel  College,  Hartley  Coleridge  at,  119, 

Orton  (the  Tichborne  claimant),  167. 

Ottery  St.  Mary,  Devon,  home  of  Mr. 
Justice  Coleridge  and  Lord  Cole- 
ridge, 145,  156,  158,  16S,  171. 

Overend-Gurney  failure,  264. 

Oxford,  199-222,  2S8. 

Oxford  Commemoration,  the,  225-237. 

Oxford  Movement,  42,  107,  147,  190, 
206,  214. 

Oxford  wine,  an,  228. 

Paley,  William,  131. 
Palfrey,  John  Gorham,  133. 
Palmerston,    Lord,    lo,    163,    1 66,    232, 

257,  298,307,311,317. 
Panizzi,  A.,  150-15 1. 
Paris,  first  sight  of  (1849),  29. 
Park  Crescent,   London,    home  of  Mr. 

Justice  Coleridge  and  Lord  Coleridge, 

148,  150. 
Parnell,  C.  S.,  Gladstone's  surrender  to, 

269-270. 
"Parochial  Sermons"  (Newman).  204. 


328 


INDEX 


Patterdale,  6l,  62. 

Patteson,  Sir  John,  159. 

Patteson,  John  Coleridge,  159. 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  20,  220. 

Penn,  William,  242. 

Penne,  George,  242. 

Penningtons,  ancient  family  of  the,  83. 

Pennsylvania  Historical  Society,  cele- 
bration of  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of, 
267. 

Penrose,  Mr.,  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Thomas 
Arnold,  76,  82. 

Perry,  Dr.  (of  Bonn),  76. 

Persia,  steamship,  318. 

"PhiEthon"  (Kingsley),  192, 

Phelps,  E.  J.,  16,  17. 

Philadelphia,  288,  319 ;  reception  of 
Lafayette,  3. 

Philip  and  Mary,  marriage  of,  210. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  6. 

Pickersgill,  portrait  of  Wordsworth,  37. 

Plain  Song,  123,  131, 

Plato,  n6. 

Plotinus,  116. 

Point  Levi,  292. 

Political  Dissenters,  262. 

"  Political  Economy  "  (Mill),  Dedica- 
tion of,  26  (note). 

Politician,  the  meaning  of  the  word  in 
England,  276. 

Poonah,  college  at,  99,  loi. 

Portinscale,  63. 

Portinscale  Hotel,  loo, 

Powis,  Earl  of,  37. 

Praed,  W.  M.,  124. 

PrevQst,  Sir  George,  205,  206. 

Price,  Bonamy,  his  opinion  of  Glad- 
stone, 273. 

Prince  Albert,  his  German  education, 
38;  his  action  in  the  affair  of  the 
Trent,  301. 

Prince  of  Wales,  177-179;  230,  231, 
288. 

Punch,  quoted,  9. 

Punjaub,  schools  in  the,  252,  275. 

Pusey,  E.  B.,  Mill's  opinion  of,  26;  Sara 
Coleridge's  opinion  of,  107;  his  per- 
sona] appearance,  1 99-200 ;  his  family, 
20 1 -202;  215,  217,  218;  meeting  with 
Keble  and  Newman,  221. 


Pusey,  Philip,  of  Pusey,  201. 

Pusey,   Philip,  son  of  Dr.   Pusey,   201- 

202. 
Puseyism,  Mill's  definition  of,  26. 

Quakerism,  Kingsley  on,  191,  261-263. 

Quarterly  Review,  edited  by  Sir  John 
Taylor  Coleridge,  150,  15S. 

Quebec,  fortifications  at,  287,  292,  293. 

Queen  Caroline,  trial  of,  234. 

Queen  Victoria,  her  visit  to  Ireland,  36; 
her  letter  upon  hearmg  the  news  of 
Gordon's  death,  271 ;  her  action  in 
the  affair  of  the  Trent,  301. 

Queenstown,  281. 

Quillinan,  Dora,  death  of,  37,  43,  74. 

Quillinan,  Jemima,  74,  99. 

Quillinan,  Rotha,  74,  99, 

Rabelais,  193. 

Rastadt,  battle  of,  27-28. 

Ravenglass,  83. 

Rawdon,  253. 

Reade,  Charles,  193. 

Reed,  Professor  Henry,  34,  47,  48,  51,. 

55,  56,  88,  105,  109,  123;   death  of,, 

138-141. 
Reed,  William  B.,  letter  from  Thackeray 

to,  138,  141. 
Reform  Bill,  5,  234,  257. 
Reid,  Wemyss,  249. 
Richardson,  Lady,  246. 
Richmond,  Va.,  297,  318. 
Richmond,  portrait  of  Keble  by,  212. 
Richmond,  James  (Rev.),  88. 
Rigi,  ascent  of  the,  87. 
"  Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Dutch  Repubhc'*^ 

(Motley),  235. 
Robertson,  F.  W.  196. 
Robinson,   Henry   Crabb,   87,  89,   128,. 

246. 
Rogers,  Samuel,  37,  125,  127-129. 
Rosthwaite,  68. 
Rothay,  57,  59. 
Rothay  Bank,  71,  75,  85. 
Russell,  Sir  Charles,  178. 
Russell,  George  W.,  172. 
Russell,    Lord    John,    on   the   battle   of 

Navarino,  4-5;    his  oratory,  20;    his 

conferring  home    rule  upon   Canada, 


INDEX 


329 


21;  his  retirement  from  the  Aberdeen 
government,  248;  failure  of  the  Re- 
form Bill  (1865),  257;  as  Foreign 
Secretary,  282-283,  293 ;  C.  F. 
Adams's  official  relations  with,  305, 
306,  307. 

Rydal,  75,  76,  86,  89,  95. 

Rydal,  vale  of,  57. 

Rydal,  waterfall  of,  45. 

Rydal  Church,  72,  73,  74. 

Rydalmere,  57. 

Rydal  Mount,  the  home  of  Wordsworth, 
34.  55.  59.  60,  71,  72,  87,  90,  95,  99, 
113,  124. 

Rydal  Water,  59,  98. 

Saddleback,  lOO. 

St.  Augustine,  156,  192. 

St.  Bernard,  156. 

St.    Cross,    hospital    of    (Winchester), 

210-211. 
St.  Cuthbert,  67. 
St.  Herbert's  Island,  67. 
St.  James  the   Less   (church  in  Phila- 
delphia), 108. 
St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  37. 
St.  John's   College,   Oxford,    225,    226, 

227. 
St.  John's  Vale,  100. 
St.   Mark's  College,  Chelsea,    Dervvent 
Coleridge  principal  of,  123,  135-136. 
St.   Mary's,  Oxford,  Newman's  preach- 
ing at,  147,  199,  202,  217,  225. 
St.  Paul's  (London),  227. 
St.  Paul's  School  (Concord),  136. 
Sainte    Chapelle,    restoration    of,    108- 

109. 
Salisbury,  Marquess  of,  230, 256,  262, 294. 
Salutation  Inn  (Ambleside),  94. 
Scale  Hill,  85. 

"Scarlet  Letter"  (Hawthorne),  146. 
Schurz,  Carl,  his  escape  from   Rastadt, 

27-28. 
Scott,  Gilbert,  56. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  131. 
Seathwaite,  84,  85. 
Sebastopol,  248. 

Selborne,  Lord,  appreciation  of  Lord 
Coleridge,  >68;  opposition  to  Glad- 
stone, 270. 


Semmes,  Captain,  302. 
Senior,  Nassau,  164-165, 
Sepoy  Rebellion,  89,  185,  252. 
September  massacres,  40. 
Seward,  William  H.,  297,  298,  305,  306. 
Shairp,  Principal,  204. 
Shakespeare,  38. 
Sharswood,  Judge,  266. 
"Shooting  Niagara"  (Carlyle),  258. 
Sirius,  the    first  steamship    from   Eng- 
land, 16. 
Skelwith  Force,  56,  94. 
Skerryvore  Rock  Lighthouse,  72. 
Skiddaw,  64,  66,  68,  90. 
Slavery,  Garrison's   attack  upon,   6,  7; 
Kingsley  on,  187-188;  freedom  of  the 
West  Indian  slaves,  234;   in  America, 
242,  244,  246,  247,  248,  250. 
Smith,  Gerrit,  6. 
Smith,  Sydney,  74. 
Smith,  W.  H.,  27. 
Sophocles,  38. 

South  Australia,  governor  of,  265. 
South  Shields,  cholera  in,  110. 
Soulhey,  Katherine,  66,  67. 
Southey,  Robert,  47,  64,  65,  66,  86,  87, 

90,  113,  114,  116. 
Southey's  book-plate,  113. 
Spanish  Armada,  fragment  from  one  of 

the  vessels  of,  192. 
Speaker  of  the  Commons,  respect  paid 

to,  285-286. 
Spectator,  98. 
Spedding,    James,    account   of    Hartley 

Coleridge,  120. 
Spmning-jenny,  257. 
Spurgeon,  C.  H.  (Rev.),  195,  196. 
Stands,  84. 
Stanley,  Arthur  Penrhyn  (Dean),   136, 

231,  234,  246,  251. 
Stanley  Owen  (Captain),  251. 
Sterling,  John,  192. 

Stevenson,  Alan,  builder  of  the  Skerry- 
vore Rock  Lighthouse,  72  (note). 
Stevenson,  R.  L.,  72  (note). 
Story,  Judge,  148. 
Strafford,  Lord,  175. 
Sty-head  Pass,  68. 
Suez  Canal,  165. 
Suffrage,  household,  257. 


330 


INDEX 


Suffrage,  universal,  257,  258. 

Sumner,  Charles,  assault  upon,  7,  186; 
attitude  toward  the  Civil  War,  7-8, 
166;  his  opinion  of  Douglas,  10 ; 
upon  the  indirect  claims,  264,  265; 
opinion  of  C.  F.  Adams,  304. 

Sumter,  Fort,  13,  296. 

Sussex  Square  (Lord  Coleridge's  Lon- 
don residence),  171,  174. 

Sutherland,  Dowager  Duchess  of,  10. 

Sutherland,  Duke  of,  9. 

Swedish  Ambassador,  honoured  at  Ox- 
ford, 232,  233. 

Swift,  Augustus  M.,  136. 

Swift,  Dean,  84. 

Tangar,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  148. 

Tasmania,  250,  251. 

Taylor,  Sir  Henry,  23,  46,  116. 

Taylor,  Herbert,  24. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  205,  206. 

Taylor,  Mrs.  John  (Mrs.  Mill),  23-25. 

Tennyson,  Lord,  70,  71 ;  opinion  of 
Browning,  127;  Life  by  Hallam  Ten- 
nyson, 135. 

Thackeray,  \V.  M.,  his  letter  to  William 
B.  Reed,  138-139;  "  Molony's  La- 
ment," 255. 

"The  Brothers"  (Wordsworth),  85. 

"  The  Cathedral  "  (Isaac  WiUiams),  206. 

"The  Doctor"  (Southey),  64. 

The  George,  inn  at  Winchester,  210. 

The  Month,  162. 

"The  Warden"  (TroUope),  210. 

Thiers,  164- 

Thirlmere,  99. 

Thirlwall,  Bishop  of  St.  David's,  39. 

Thompson,  George,  6. 

Tichborne  Case,  the,  167. 

Tichborne,  Sir  Roger,  167. 

Ticknor,  George,  35,  133. 

Times,  12,  285,  289,  299. 

Tipperary,  disturbances  in,  269. 

Tipperary  Nationalists,  269. 

"  To  the  Pennsylvanians "  (Words- 
worth), 140. 

"Tom  Brown's  School  Days  "  (Hughes), 
194,  228. 

"Tom  Quadrangle,"  the,  200,  201. 

Tottenham,  Robert  Forster,  of,  241. 


Town  End,  home  of  Wordsworth,  78. 
Townshend,  Chauncey  Hare,  124. 
Trench,  Archbishop,  9. 
Trent,  affair  of  the,  283,  284,  297,  298, 

299.  300,  301- 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  foundation 

of.  37- 

Tritton,    Mr.,    his    liberal    gift    to    All 

Saints'  Church,  147. 
Trollope,  Anthony,  210. 
Twining,  Mrs.,  daughter  of  Dr.  Arnold, 

76,  81. 
Twiss,    Dr.,    Regius    Professor   of  Civil 

Law,  233. 
"Two  Years  Ago  "  (Kingsley),  187. 

UUswater,  61,  62. 

"  Uncle  Tom"s  Cabin  "  (Stowe),  244. 
Union  League  of  New  York,  267. 
Unitarians  of  New  England,  148,  196. 

Van  Diemen's  Land,  251. 
Vice-Chancellor   of    Oxford,    230,    231, 

232*  233,  234,  235,  236. 
Viollet-le-Duc,  109. 
"  Vision  of  Judgment  "  (Southey),  65. 

Wadham,  Warden  of,  229. 

Walton,  Izaak,  210. 

Ward,  Artemus,  255. 

Ward,  Mrs.  Humphry,  251. 

Washington,  drinking  the  health  of,  70. 

Washington,  funeral  of  Lincoln  at,  319. 

Watendlath,  68. 

Waterhead  Inn,  Coniston,  94. 

Welles,  Gideon,  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 

301. 
Wellington,  Duke  of,  4,  li,  17-20,  230, 

250. 
Welsh,  John,  entertains  W.  E.  Forster, 

266. 
Welsh,  William,  266. 
Wemyss,  Earl  of,  272. 
Westbury,  Lord,  232. 
Westminster  Abbey,  funeral  service  for 

Hon.  W.  E.  Forster  held  in,  275. 
Westminster  Review,  247. 
Wharfe,  the,  243,  244. 
Wharfeside,  home  of  W.  E.  Forster,  76, 

244,  249,  250. 


INDEX 


331 


Whately,  Archbishop,  76,  164,  246. 
White,  Mr.,  member  for  Brighton,  293. 
"  White    Doe    of    Rylstone "    (Words- 
worth), 126. 
Whiteside,  Mr.,  reply  to  Gladstone,  312- 

313- 

Whitman,  Walt,  193. 

Wicklif,  207. 

Wilberforce,  Samuel,  229. 

Wilkes,  Captain,  293,  301. 

William  of  Wykeham,  209. 

William  Rufus,  209. 

Williams,  Isaac,  206. 

Wilson,  Professor  John,  t^T). 

Winchester,  208,  209,  210,  211. 

Winchfield,  station  for  Eversley,  183, 
196. 

Windermere,  Lake,  33,  59,  61,  75,  92, 98. 

Wishing  Gate,  78,  99. 

Wolfe,  General,  292. 

Wolseley,  Lord,  271,  272. 

Woolwich  Band,  227. 

Worcester  College,  227. 

Wordsworth,  Christopher,  master  of 
Trinity,  39,  93. 

Wordsworth,  Dora,  74,  113. 

Wordsworth,  Dorothy,  73,  90,  118. 

Wordsworth,  John  (vicar  of  Cocker- 
mouth),  100. 


Wordsworth,  William,  a  visit  to  (1849), 
33-51;  portraits  of,  37;  university 
honours,  37 ;  his  thought  of  the 
classics,  38;  reflections  upon  uni- 
versity life,  39;  recollections  of  the 
French  Revolution,  40  ;  attitude 
toward  the  O.xford  movement,  42; 
opinion  on  international  copyright, 
47;  memorial  tablet  to,  58,  62,  70; 
his  grammar  school,  93;  71,  72,  73, 
76,  77,  78,  82,  85,  87,  88,  98,  99; 
death  of,  81-82;  105,  106,  113,  118; 
estimate  of  Hartley  Coleridge,  120; 
opinion  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  125;  on 
Pennsylvania,  140;  203,  243,  246. 

Wordsworth,  William  (Mrs.),  35,  40,  41, 
42,  55,  60,  71,  73,  75,  77,  79,  80,  89, 
90,  91,  95,  u8. 

Wordsworth,  William  (grandson  of  the 
poet),  59,  71,  73,  75,  86,  89,  90,  99, 
100-102. 

"Yeast"  (Kingsley),  156. 
Yewdale,  94. 

York  Cathedral,  compared  with  Win- 
chester, 208-209. 

Zug,  Lake  of,  87. 


Alfred  Lord  Tennyson 

A   MEMOIR,  BT  HIS  SON 
Two  Vols.     8vo.     Cloth.     In  Box.     Price,  $10.00,  net 


These  volumes  of  over  500  pages  each  contain  many  letters  written 
or  received  by  Lord  Tennyson,  to  which  no  other  biographer  could 
have  had  access,  and  in  addition  a  large  number  of  Poems  hitherto 
unpublished. 

Several  chapters  are  contributed  by  such  of  his  friends  as  Dr.  Jowett, 
the  Duke  of  Argyll,  the  late  Earl  of  Selborne,  Mr.  Lecky,  Professor 
Francis  T.  Palgrave,  Professor  Tyndall,  Mr,  Aubrey  de  Vere,  and 
others,  who  thus  expressed  their  Personal  Recollections. 

There  are  many  illustrations,  engraved  after  pictures  by  Richard 
Doyle,  Samuel  LawTence,  G.  F.  Watts,  R.A.,  etc.,  in  all  about  twenty 
full-page  Portraits  and  other  Illustrations. 


"  The  biography  is  easily  the  biography  not  only  of  the  year,  but  of  the  decade, 
and  the  story  of  the  development  of  Tennyson's  intellect  and  of  his  growth  — 
whatever  may  be  the  varying  opinions  of  his  exact  rank  among  the  greatest  poets 
—  into  one  of  the  few  masters  of  English  verse,  will  be  found  full  of  thrilling 
interest  not  only  by  the  critic  and  student  of  literature,  but  by  the  average 
reader."  —  The  New  York  Times, 

"  Hallam  Lord  Tennyson  has  done  wisely.  His  very  self-effacement  has  en- 
abled him  to  present  a  biography  that  deserves  to  have  applied  to  it  his  father's 
line  — '  in  its  simplicity  sublime.'  In  the  most  unostentatious  manner  it  reveals 
the  grandeur  of  its  subject."  —  The  A^ew  York  Herald. 

"The  poet's  son  has  done  his  duty  in  a  way  which  should  be  an  example;  and 
many  choice  spirits  among  Tennyson's  closest  friends  have  added  their  recollec- 
tions and  impressions  with  generous  and  loving  hands.  Such  a  book  is  a  new 
and  priceless  gift  from  the  spirit  of  one  of  the  loveliest  and  purest  poets  who  have 
set  human  speech  to  immortal  music."  —  The  Century  Magazine. 

"  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  it  is  the  most  important  literary  biography 
since  Lockhart's  '  Scott '  and  ^loore's  '  Byron.'  Two  reasons  combine  to  give 
this  memoir  its  great  value :  First,  the  unique  position  of  Lord  Tennyson  among 
nineteenth-century  poets;  and,  second,  the  skill,  tact,  and  taste  with  which  it  is 
written."  —  Hartjford  Daily  Times. 

"This  Memoir  is  a  witness  to  the  genius,  gravity,  dignity,  and  essential  sin- 
cerity of  its  central  figure." — London  Academy. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY, 

66   FIFTH    AVENUE,    NEW   YORK. 


THE    LETTERS    OF 

Elizabeth    Barrett    Browning 

EDITED    WITH   BIOGRAPHICAL   ADDITIONS 

BY 

FREDERIC    G.   KENTON 

WITH    PORTRAITS 

Two  Volumes.     Crown  8vo.     Price,  $4.00 


The  earliest  correspondence  quoted  took  place  when  the  writer 
was  a  young  girl,  and  every  period  of  her  life  is  represented  in  these 
frank  and  simple  letters.  She  knew  many  interesting  people,  was  in 
Paris  during  the  Coiip  d^etat  in  185 1,  and  lived  in  Florence  during 
years  of  great  excitement  in  Italy.  Among  other  pen  pictures  she 
gives  one  of  the  few  English  sketches  we  have  of  George  Sand,  whom 
she  met  several  times. 


INTER-OCEAN,   Chicago. 

"  Mr.  Kenyon  has  edited  this  large  collection  of  !\Irs.  Browning's 
letters  in  the  most  perfect  way.  They  tell  a  chronological  story  and 
form  almost  an  autobiography.  .  .  .  Books  and  humanity,  great 
deeds,  and,  above  all,  politics,  which  include  all  the  grand  questions 
of  the  day,  were  foremost  in  her  thoughts,  and,  therefore,  oftenest 
on  her  lips." 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY, 

66   FIFTH   AVENUE,    NEW   YORK. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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